


The Man in the Falling Star

by mos



Category: The 100 (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4003591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mos/pseuds/mos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU in which Abby is a grounder healer, and Marcus is himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (Prologue)

The woman was in his dream again, and she was weeping. She spoke not a word, nor did she look at him, but intuitively he knew that she wasn't weeping for herself, but for him instead. It agonized him to cause her such pain. Standing against a backdrop of blackness and stars, she had her head turned away, and as her tears fell, they spun and became galaxies.

Marcus woke abruptly, his body awash in a cold sweat. Consciousness wrenched him away from her, though he tried to grasp her image, to hold onto it for just a little longer. It slipped away anyway, leaving him with a vague memory and an empty feeling in his chest. A quick glance at the clock told him that he was only midway through his sleep cycle. Maybe if he fell asleep quickly enough, she would come back.

Instead he lay dozing, drifting, unable to fall back asleep, his mind on her. Logically, he knew that the woman in his dream was a projection of his feelings, but it didn't explain why he'd dreamed of her for years, or why she aged with the dreams. Sometimes it was five years between dreams, and she'd be five years older. She was real and not real all at the same time. She didn't exist. He knew this, because he knew everyone on the Ark, and her face was not there.

It didn't stop him from looking anyway, though. He'd looked through all the faces that he'd murdered, all two hundred and nine of them. Maybe there was some supernatural power at play. Maybe she was a ghost of the old world or on another plane of existence. But no. His brain craved hope, and it was hopeful to pretend, but reality was as cold and harsh as the space station where he'd been born. There were no fairytales. No hope. No woman. She was merely a projection of his own mind. The brain could do extraordinary things, after all.

He threw aside his blanket and rolled out of bed, padding over to the window to look down at the planet below. There was a hurricane in the Atlantic. It gave him hope to see that the planet still worked despite the destruction wrought upon it. The bombs had dropped, but the clouds still moved and the trees still grew. Maybe there really was magic in the universe, after all.

_Where are you?_ he asked silently. She didn't exist, though. She was nowhere.

He knew why she was here, though.

She was here because he'd sent a hundred kids to the ground to die. She was here because he'd given the orders to kill two hundred and nine people, and it felt like some beast of the old world had raked claws across his insides. He was a liar and a murderer. He was Death.

There would be no more sleep for him tonight. As wakefulness took over his mind, his fanciful thoughts of the night faded away, replaced by cool logic. He poured himself a glass of moonshine and moved back to the window, shutting the strange dream woman away in a compartment in his mind. Of course he'd done the right thing by culling the population. Jaha was dead, but even he would have made the same decision.

The moonshine burned his throat. He watched the hurricane spin in the Atlantic. Just as he was about to turn back to his bed, there came a burst of static from the intercom overhead.

"Ark Station-" the voice crackled. "-on the ground."

Marcus frowned, but while his mind screamed disbelief, his heart began to pound. The voice came again, clear this time.

"Ark Station, this is Monty Green," came a young man's voice. "I am one of the hundred. We are on the ground, and we are alive."

 

*

 

_Where are you?_

It was in the place between sleep and awake when the words came, in the early morning hours when her mind barely registered that she was waking. The words seemed to come from outside herself, like a drop of water falling into the pool of her mind, and as sleep faded, she vaguely wondered where they'd come from.

It had been years since she'd used those words. How old had she been? Twenty? They'd come to her after she'd lost all hope, after she'd finally realized that her mother's stories about fate and soulmates were tales of misery. Fate, if she existed, was a trickster, and soulmates were something untouchable, like the moving star Abby sometimes spotted in the night sky.

_Where are you?_ she'd ask silently, always when looking out into an expanse of forest or water or sky. She'd seen others fall in love, had seen the desperate whirlwind of it, and the women who somehow knew when their men died at war a hundred miles away. Never had she felt it, though. Not like that, anyway. She'd longed for it all the same, for someone who knew her the moment he looked at her. And she'd looked for him for years, calling out into the emptiness and never finding an answer, until she'd lost hope and given up and resigned herself to a life where he would never exist.

She opened her eyes to the cool dark just before dawn. There was no need to be up just yet, but something made her rise anyway. Gathering a blanket about her shoulders, she stepped from her hut and wandered out into the dark. Her feet took her through the village and onto the path that led to the lake. Once there, she regretted being barefoot, for her toes turned to ice against the cold ground.

The night was dark, and the stars reflected in the water. The peace made her sleepy again, and she closed her eyes briefly. Whatever had brought her down here was long gone, and there was no point in staying. Her bed would still be warm.

She opened her eyes again, and a shooting star was reflected in the water. She turned to look up at it in the sky, a little in awe but a little afraid as well. Never had she seen a shooting star so bright, and it was beautiful and terrifying all at once. She'd heard the old stories of terrible things falling from the sky and bringing destruction upon the earth. Maybe they'd looked just like this. Maybe this was something come to destroy them all.

The star began to crumble, to break apart into pieces. Even the bursts of flame were beautiful, but she knew when she saw them that it wasn't a star after all. Word of the people who had come down from the sky had reached them quickly, and their warriors were ready to leave at a moment's notice if word came down from the commander. The sky people were young, they'd been told, and fought amongst themselves so much that the commander had decided to watch for now.

The mountain men were watching, too.

And now there were more sky people. Abby watched the burning ships until they disappeared behind the treeline to the north. As she padded back to her hut, the world seemed a little different somehow, and something told her to have her blades sharpened and her medicines at the ready.

As dawn rose and the village came to life, Abby sharpened her sword and then went into the forest to gather herbs. New people in their territory would mean war, one way or another. War meant sewing ugly wounds shut and watching people die, and she meant to be ready for it.


	2. Chapter 2

"Run!"

Marcus eased his finger from the trigger, unsure what to make of the two filthy, bloody young men who were tearing towards them. It was the shorter one who had shouted, and he was waving his arms at them.

"It's Finn and Bellamy!" one of the kids shouted from behind Marcus.

"Reapers!" Bellamy shouted.

Marcus could see them now, ten of them, screaming nonsense as they barrelled through the trees behind the boys. As Bellamy and Finn raced by and the kids scattered, Marcus shouted at his men to form a line, heart pounding, because it was one thing to shoot things in a digital simulation, but it was entirely another to face the real thing, and on his second day on Earth. His first shot missed the man coming at him brandishing a sword, but his second shot took him down.

"Steady!" he shouted, because he wasn't the only one who had missed. When all of the reapers were laying dead, he and his men took off after Bellamy and Finn, finding them over the next rise, catching their breath. The kids, who had scattered, were staring to come back, though they looked fearful for the most part.

"What the hell is going on?" Marcus demanded.

Both boys eyed him with suspicion and then exchanged a glance. "We followed them," Bellamy said. "They took them through the mines and into Mount Weather."

It was another piece to a very strange puzzle. Upon arrival at the dropship, he and his men had found only half of the hundred that were supposed to be there, forty frightened and disoriented kids who had told a story of smoke bombs and men in masks with guns. They'd been knocked out, and when they'd awoken, half their number was gone.

"They took the younger kids," Finn said. "Jasper, Monty, Fox-"

"We'll figure it out," Marcus said. "We need to get to Alpha Station."

"We need to go after them," Bellamy shot back. "If they're as bad as the grounders-"

"We don't know what we're up against. Byrne, restrain him."

"What?" Bellamy didn't bother resisting, though.

"Bellamy Blake, you are under arrest for the murder of Chancellor Jaha," Marcus said, making sure that his voice was loud enough for the other kids to hear. "As for the rest of you, your crimes are hereby pardoned. Some of your parents may be waiting at Alpha Station. Let's move out."

"Finn," Bellamy turned to look at the other boy. "Find Octavia. Check Lincoln's-"

"That's enough!" Byrne barked, shoving Bellamy into a walk.

Marcus didn't bother to stop Finn, who bolted into the forest. As he and the others started to move out, his gaze moved downward, catching something buried in the moss and leaves of the forest floor. Bending to brush the litter aside, he found a leather notebook beneath, waterlogged and dirty.

Most of the pages were stuck together, and he flipped through them in chunks. The notebook was full of drawings done by someone with a talented hand. A forest canopy under a full moon. Butterflies and stars. And, on the last page he turned, a woman, asleep. He lingered on that drawing, for despite the watermarks and the mud, the woman could easily have been the one from his dreams.

"What is it?" Byrne asked.

"Drawings," he replied, tucking it in his jacket pocket. "Let's get moving."

Ninety-eight kids had been sent down, not including Bellamy, and forty-eight were now captive, apparently taken by Mount Weather. Ten of the kids were dead, two from the landing and the others from acid fog and grounders. From the few days of radio contact before the bombing, they already knew that the grounders were hostile and would kill anyone who moved too far into their territory, but hadn't declared all out war yet. Nobody had seen a threat coming from the mountain. Hell, nobody had even known it was occupied, and now they had threats from two factions.

It was a slow walk to the station with so many people. Marcus spent the time mulling over his next move and keeping an eye out for grounders. Their arrival at the newly-named Camp Jaha was a mix of happy reunions and a barrage of questions. A dark-haired young woman pushed to the front of the crowd, demanding to know where Finn was, and as Byrne stepped in to brief everyone, Marcus took Bellamy inside the station.

"Have a seat, Bellamy," Marcus told him, when they entered the council chamber. The young man had a defiant attitude about him, but he sat anyway, looking none too pleased about it.

"You going to shoot people for felonies down here?" Bellamy asked, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "It's probably a quicker death than floating, at least."

Marcus looked at him. Despite Bellamy Blake having shot and killed Chancellor Jaha, he was not the most hated man in camp. No, that honour belonged solely to Marcus Kane himself, who had the unfortunate job of leading said people who hated him, the same people he'd murdered. Two hundred and nine lives that he wished with all his heart that he could give back.

Marcus wished a lot of things. He wished he could spend every day of the rest of his life wandering through forests and marshes and smelling the honeyed wildflower sweetness of the air. He wished for redemption. He wished he hadn't killed two hundred and nine people, wished that there had been someone to stop him. How different would his life have been if there had been someone there to call him on his bullshit?

He figured that both executing Bellamy for his crime and pardoning him for it would result in the same thing: more hatred. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. What his people didn't know, though, was that Marcus's self-loathing ran soul-deep, and the only thing he could do to prevent himself from rotting from the inside out was to save as many people as possible. It didn't make up for the culling, but it gave him a new purpose in life.

And so he had absolutely no intention of killing Bellamy Blake, and every intention of getting the remaining delinquents out of Mount Weather.

The boy was brave, and Marcus could see that he had a good heart under the tough exterior. Sure, he'd shot Jaha, but what did that matter now that they were on the ground? Bellamy had kept the hundred alive, and the kids now in camp would listen to him. If they were to get the rest of them out of the mountain, then Marcus needed him.

"I'm pardoning you for your crime," Marcus told him. "There are people who will disagree with my decision, but if we're to rescue the kids, then we need you."

Bellamy sat back, clearly surprised. "I thought you were a hard ass."

"No one else is dying on my orders. I need to know everything you know about the grounders and the mountain men."

"We know nothing about the people in Mount Weather, though if Finn can find my sister, we might be able to learn more from her grounder friend," Bellamy replied. "Finn thinks the grounders might be a source of help. We've had skirmishes with them and they've killed a few of us, but no major conflicts."

Marcus noted the doubt in Bellamy's voice. "Do you know their position in regards to us?"

Bellamy shrugged. "They don't like that we just landed in their territory and set up camp, and they like to kill. So far as I can tell, they're dicks."

After chatting for awhile longer, Marcus released Bellamy with the promise that he'd stay in camp until they knew more, and then called the officers of the guard to him.

"We need to learn more about the people in Mount Weather," Marcus told them. "As soon as this camp is secure, I'm going to meet with the grounder leaders. It's time to make peace before this turns to war."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! A rundown of events in the AU thus far. I'm running off the idea that the events of the show would have happened differently, but more of less ended up in the same place without Abby and Clarke (and Jake) in the equation.
> 
> 1\. The system failure on the Ark is discovered by others and kept quiet.
> 
> 2\. The 100 are sent down. They wouldn't waste a dropship unless they wanted to test if the earth was survivable. Therefore they would need some way to talk to the kids. No bracelets because Abby doesn't exist on the Ark, but they would have sent them down with something else: an extra radio that was snatched by Bellamy. Finn, Monty, Jasper manage to snatch it back (wanting to speak to their loved ones) and hideout in the art supply store to fix it. They then make contact with the Ark and learn that the Ark is dying.
> 
> 3\. Jaha dies.
> 
> 4\. Marcus becomes chancellor and 209 people are put to death in the section 17 "accident" and they get busy on trying to fix the life support systems and discover that the problem is worse than they thought and they are not fixable. Diana is added to the council after Jaha's death and Marcus's succession. After being contacted by the delinquents, Marcus feels horrible for killing his people and lying to make it look like an accident, and resigns as chancellor. Diana then becomes chancellor. After Marcus figures out what she's about and there not being enough exodus ships and her wanting to take down the workers, he confronts her. She steals the ship, crippling the Ark. The remaining people look to Marcus. It is Wells who comes up with the idea to bring the Ark down (essentially replacing Jaha- assuming he and his father think alike), and he's also the one who stays behind. He dies in space.
> 
> 5\. The 100 never try to get to Mt Weather, Jasper is never speared. Less of a redemption arc for Bellamy, but he and Finn team up as leaders. There are no flare rockets because Raven stays on the Ark. Finn is never stabbed. No war with the grounders. Kids are ambushed by Mt Weather and only half of them are taken because I don't think they had the resources to haul a hundred unconscious kids for eight+ hours. The Ark comes down and they find half the kids missing.


	3. Chapter 3

The stool beneath Abby's feet wobbled as she rose to her tiptoes to reach for the last bundle of herbs hanging from the roof, and she wavered as she steadied herself. The rickety thing was old and should have probably been cut up for firewood years ago, but when she looked at it, all she could see was Jake and a six-year-old Clarke, laughing as they built it together. The memory was so long gone now that it seemed almost surreal to think upon.

There was a feeling like a large stone in the pit of her stomach that had settled there when the news about Clarke had come, and it hadn't gone away. When people disappeared, they were presumed dead. Abby was supposed to accept that and move on, but despite it being a month, she was not ready to move on. She'd never be ready, not when something inside her told her that her daughter still lived.

Clarke had always been reckless, and her warrior training had only made her confident on top of the recklessness. It had taken Abby a long time to let go, to stop making the trek up to Tondc to check up on her, to stop worrying herself to sleep at night. When the ship full of sky people had landed, she should have known that Clarke would go to investigate. They said that she'd gone off alone one day, drawing notebook in hand. She never should have gone alone. She knew better than that. If she hadn't been alone, the reapers never would have taken her.

_I still believe_ , Abby uttered to herself, whenever doubts about her daughter's mortality crept into her mind. Very few people escaped the mountain, though.

Abby placed the bundle of herbs next to the others she was storing for winter. Sage. Tansy and cohosh root, wild onion and oregano. Willow bark. She needed more mint and thyme, but she could still get one more harvest of those before the cold set in.

"Abby?" Rica, her apprentice, was standing in the doorway of the healer's hut. "Mona wishes to see you."

"Of course," Abby replied. Rica was nearly ready to work on her own as a healer, but neither had brought up the subject. Their little village didn't need two healers. Abby had toyed with the idea of leaving everything to Rica and moving up to Tondc for awhile, in hopes that Clarke would turn up. The larger village was in need of a second healer.

Mona, their village's leader, was sitting on a log by the lake, looking out at the water. Abby's mother had always described Mona as an old soul, and it had been no surprise when she'd assumed leadership of their clan at a young age. Abby sat down beside her and waited for the younger woman to speak.

"I've news from the commander," Mona said. "Lexa has agreed to an alliance with the sky people. We are going to war against the mountain men."

Abby sucked in a breath. She couldn't help but feel a touch of resentment towards them, for it was their arrival that had taken Clarke from her. She'd seen herself the bright cluster of ships falling from the sky, but before that... they'd heard stories of people living in the sky, but nobody had really believed it. They were an oddity that nobody really knew quite what to do about. "How did this come about?" Abby asked. There had been caution with regards to the sky people, for they were more like the mountain men than them, and the hundred young ones quite rash, and sometimes foolish.

"They have people trapped inside the mountain," Mona replied. "Their leaders proposed an alliance to get both theirs and ours back. They can cure the reapers, Abby."

Guilt crashed through her, settling like a rock in the pit of her stomach. Jake's smile flitted through her mind, always unworried, always easy and reassuring. _I'll see you soon_ , he'd said, the day he'd gone into the forest on a hunting expedition, like he'd done hundreds of times before. That man had never returned.

She remembered it clear as day. Months later. Snow falling. Jake's feral eyes and the paleness of his teeth in contrast to the dried blood around his mouth. The light fading from Clarke's eyes as his hand tightened around her throat. And lastly, her own scream as she threw herself at him, heart breaking as her knife slashed open his throat and his blood poured over their child. _Always slash_ , her mother had told her, the first time she'd put a knife in Abby's hand. _Never stab. Go for the kill_.

Clarke had never forgiven her. There had been screaming, at first, and sobbing. After they'd burned his body the anger had come. Clarke understood and didn't understand all at once. She knew there was no cure for the reapers. She knew Abby would kill anyone to protect her. She just didn't know that her own father fell into that category as well.

"How?" Abby asked softly. Not that it mattered now. Jake was long dead.

"Medicine. I will be departing for Tondc tomorrow to meet with the commander and the other clan leaders. You will join me. You will learn this medicine. There will be war as well, and wounded to tend."

"Of course. I will pack my supplies."


	4. Chapter 4

Abby arrived at Tondc to find it a burning hole in the ground, with fire scattered outwards amongst the trees and people shouting and wailing. It was chaos. Terror.

They'd seen the missile hit on the journey there, seen the mushroom cloud blooming above the treetops. Abby had heard stories of the like, but never had she seen such a thing, and it was all at once both fascinating and horrifying.

"Go," Mona told her, and disappeared into the flurry of activity. There were several injured laying all in a row nearby, under the trees, and Abby went there first.

They were the ones beyond hope, she realized, as she knelt by the first man. His leg was missing below the knee, and a trail of blood led from the remnants of the village to the puddle beneath him, soaked into the forest floor. He was dead, and so was the child next to him with pieces of shrapnel embedded in her head and torso. The next one was an old man, lying on his stomach because his back was bloody and shredded. One arm was extended, clawing at dirt and leaves, and his back heaved as he gasped for air, the air moving into him with a painful whistle.

When he exhaled again, it was the last time.

"Yu gonplei ste odon," Abby murmured, over the corpse of the mangled man.

There was only one more alive amongst the group, that one a toddler with his arms and legs broken and a gaping hole in his head. His mind was already gone, she could see, but still she stroked his hair as she plunged the knife gently into his neck, murmuring a lullaby as his fight came to an end as well.

Leaving them, she moved into the village, finding Nyko, Tondc's healer, and his young apprentice tending to the ones who might yet live with the right care.

"The sky people's healer needs assistance," Nyko told her, when she knelt by his side. "You'll find him in the green tent, just by the gate."

Giving his shoulder a squeeze, Abby hurried off, finding the tent easily. There were five injured outside it, all with broken limbs, and two inside it, both unconscious. The ones outside could keep for awhile, so she went to work on the two inside. One was bleeding from the ears and the other had a massive gash to his belly that would need to be stitched up before his intestines spilled out.

"Jackson?" someone called from outside. A moment later two men came in, carrying a man on a stretcher between them. They acknowledged Abby with a nod, and after setting the man down, hurried out.

The man they brought in was covered from head to toe in dust, and not long for this world. She gently laid a hand on his forehead, and he stirred ever so slightly under her touch. He was the first sky person she'd ever touched, and she found herself suddenly regretful that she couldn't ask him what it was like, living amongst the stars.

A young man burst into the hut then, carrying a bag. He came to a halt when she saw her, and quickly she withdrew her hand.

"You know this man?" she asked.

The young man nodded. "Chancellor Kane. He's our leader. I'm Jackson."

A little awkwardly, she shook his outstretched hand. "I am Abby kom Trikru. You are a healer?"

"I'm a doctor." He smiled, then gestured to the dust-covered man. "Shall we get started?"

She wasn't sure what he meant, but if they could cure reapers, then she was more than willing to learn what she could from him. And so she watched as he examined the wound on the man's thigh, and cleansed it, and she passed him supplies as he cut it open wider and then sewed it shut. She'd never have considered making a wound worse in order to make it better, and his ways intrigued her. Hoping to offer something in return, she showed him how to make a poultice.

"It will prevent it from going foul," she said, carefully applying it to the wound. The man had been still for the duration of their ministrations, but he stirred when she put the poultice on, letting out a short moan.

"He's waking up," Jackson said. "I'll go get him some water."

And so it was that Abby was alone in the hut with the strange man from the sky when he opened his eyes. They were dark, and they focused on the roof for a moment before finding her face. It was easy to blame heartache and weariness for the lurch that moved through her insides, for the sudden tingling in her fingers and odd lightening in her chest. She had nothing to blame for his words, though.

"I never thought you were real," he croaked, a furrow appearing between his brows. He stared at her with an expression of utter amazement for a heartbeat or two, then closed his eyes again.

She stood there frozen to the spot, his words running through her mind, over and over again. His voice was so familiar somehow, but he'd fallen from the sky, and she couldn't have possibly heard it before... Except... Except she had. Yes, she had heard it, falling into her mind in the place between sleep and awake. _Where are you?_

No. She wasn't a fanciful girl anymore, and it was impossible. He hadn't called for her. He hadn't found her. He wasn't real.

 

*

 

Marcus woke the next morning with a throbbing pain in his leg that eclipsed the thousand or so other aches in his body. He lay there with his eyes squeezed shut, biting back a groan and sifting through the previous day's memories. There'd been an explosion, and he'd been trapped under piles of concrete, and Octavia had pulled him out. And then... then there'd been a haze of pain and... her.

He was losing his goddamned mind.

It had all been a dream, of course, or a delusion. She always came to him when he was most distressed, a creation of his brain to soothe his troubled mind. He must have been close to death for her to have come this time, and silently thanked her for being there in the end, even though it hadn't been the end. It wasn't something he deserved, not after everything he'd done.

Opening his eyes to face the day, he found himself in a grounder tent, laying on a pallet of furs. A quick perusal found his clothes covered in dust, and his hair as well. Someone had washed his face and hands, though. From the waist down he was covered with a blanket, and underneath clad only in underwear. The source of the pain was on his thigh, but it was covered with a mash of sorts. His mouth was parched, but he didn't see anything that looked like it held water, and he didn't think it wise to get up just yet anyway.

So he laid back down, this time allowing the groan to escape, and closed his eyes again. There was work to be done, but just this once it could wait.

He must have dozed off, because a touch on his wrist jolted him awake. He was happy to see Jackson –he, at least, wasn't a delusion- and Jackson seemed pleased to see him as well. He handed Marcus a canteen of water.

"Why did you save me?" Marcus asked, taking a long drink, the cool liquid settling the hunger pangs in his stomach.

"You're our leader," Jackson replied.

He was their leader, and their killer. Their anger over the culling hadn't faded, it had just been eclipsed by greater fury. He supposed he had Diana to thank for that. He'd dishonestly culled their people, and he was the lesser evil. Still, at least he was alive. Dying under a pile of rubble wouldn't have brought him redemption.

"Thank you," he said, passing the canteen back. "What news?"

"The army moved out this morning," Jackson said. "The missile's made the grounders eager for blood."

"Good. Hopefully that means we'll have our people back soon."

Jackson nodded, and then withdrew. Marcus fell asleep again, waking sometime later with a cool cloth on his forehead. When he opened his eyes, there was a plate of food beside him, bread and fruit and nuts, and a lingering scent of herbs in the tent. He closed his eyes and tried to catch it again, wondering why it was so familiar and coming up empty.

He had hit his head, though. After eating, he fell asleep again, and slept most of the day away, his headache subsiding a little by nightfall and his mind becoming clearer. There was no news of the army or the mountain yet. Sleep was the best thing for waiting.

Jackson shook him awake in the middle of the night, face grim under the candlelight. "Get up," he said. "We have to leave."

"Now?" Marcus's tired, aching, confused mind couldn't wrap his head around the words.

"Now." There was an urgent tone to Jackson's voice, enough so that Marcus sat up and began to work on getting his feet under him. Someone had changed the poultice on his wound and he couldn't remember it happening. He must have been asleep.

"What happened?" His thigh burned as the weight of his body settled on it. Jackson passed him his pants and boots.

"They betrayed us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing with my previous note:
> 
> Lincoln becomes a reaper (in order to prove to the tree people that the reapers can be cured and to get Bellamy into Mt Weather). Finn and Bellamy help to secure an alliance with the grounders against the mountain. Finn takes on the role of Clarke, working w/ Lexa, and Bellamy is sent inside the mountain. Tondc is bombed and Kane is found in the rubble.
> 
> And here our love story begins.


	5. Chapter 5

In the middle of the night, Abby woke to shouting and the sounds that could only herald a returning army. Frowning, she got up and quickly dressed, then ducked outside and followed the shouts to the source. She was stunned to see the commander striding back into the village, the clan leaders and generals behind her. Puzzled, she tried to piece together what had happened, why the army was back so soon, and without wounded, but every thought flew from her mind when she spotted a half-naked group with orange blankets about their shoulders. She recognized one blonde head amongst them immediately, and disbelief was quickly followed by joy.

"Clarke!" she shouted, racing forward, shoving people out of the way, closing the space between them in a few bounds. Clarke's eyes found her , and then she was running, too, and in another heartbeat Abby's daughter was safely in her arms.

"Mom," Clarke said.

Abby's eyes filled with tears as she pulled back to look at her girl, analyzing the planes of her face for damage and seeing pale skin and dark circles under Clarke's eyes.

"You're safe now," Abby said.

"They left them there to die, Mom," Clarke said. She was tearful but angry. "He said he'd come back for me and he did, and we just left him there to die."

"What are you talking about?"

But the commander was already speaking, and something sick settled in the pit of Abby's stomach when she learned what Lexa had done. A deal with their enemy. No blood for blood. The sky people, their allies, left for dead.

"Sky people, you are free to leave the camp," Lexa finished, though it was clear that it was a command and not a suggestion. "Be gone by morning."

"This isn't right," Abby said. She wasn't the only one saying so. Nobody would dare go against the commander, though.

Her daughter turned to face her, jaw set. "Fifty years of them stealing our people," Clarke spat. "It's a disgrace. We deserve blood."

"The commander will punish you if she hears you."

"Like hell she will."

"Clarke, please. Come. You need rest-"

"Do you know what they did to me?" Clarke's eyes were blazing with anger. "They hung me upside down like an animal, and they stole my blood. They took my clothes and they poked me and hurt me and tortured me. And they will die for it."

"Clarke, stop," Abby said, grabbing hold of her daughter's hand.

"I met one of the sky people. They had me locked in a cage and he said he'd come back for me. And he did. I was supposed to get the others ready to fight, but then the men came, and-" Clarke shook her head. "I'm not leaving him in there to die. Not after he freed me."

"Enough. We need to get you clothes," Abby said, pulling her daughter away. "Your feet must be freezing."

Clarke nodded and went along with her, but everything in her posture was still furious, and Abby recognized that stubborn set to her jaw. She prayed that Clarke wouldn't do anything foolish, hoping that warmth and maybe food would calm her down enough to see reason.

Inside her tent, Abby found clothes for her daughter, and then stepped outside while she changed. Wrapping her arms around herself, she watched the new arrivals settle in, and the lights amongst the trees from the army surrounding the village. The sky people were leaving. She couldn't spot their dust-covered leader amongst the group, but he was there.

Ducking back inside the tent, she found Clarke sleeping, curled in a ball, face tense even in slumber. She'd managed to dress, but looked very much like she'd collapsed from exhaustion. Abby drew the blanket up to her daughter's chin and leaned down to kiss her forehead. She wanted to know more about what had happened to Clarke inside the mountain, but it could wait until morning.

She went for a long walk around the village, pushing her feelings away and locking them somewhere deep inside her. Perhaps she'd see Chancellor Kane again. Maybe one day their peoples really would make peace. For now, though... she walked to the edge of the village and stood there for a long time, allowing regret to fill her body. She'd seen him several times today, and she'd lingered after bringing a cool cloth and food, and changing his poultice, waiting for him to awaken so they could speak. He'd slumbered so deeply, though.

All she'd wanted was to hear him speak, for him to learn her name. _Come back to me_ , she silently told the night. Even if he could hear her, he wouldn't return. He couldn't, and she was being foolish. With a weary sigh, she headed back to her tent to sleep.

And found her daughter gone. She'd expected Clarke to still be sleeping after her ordeal, but she wasn't in the tent. Certain that Clarke was in the village somewhere, Abby headed off to search. When she wasn't in the village, Abby wandered amongst the army, but her daughter was nowhere to be found.

Fear and exasperation filled her, because there was only thing her impulsive daughter would be disappearing to do, and that was to disobey the commander and go back to the mountain. It was an endeavour that would get her exiled at the very least, with a good chance of being put to death for it. Abby stood in the forest for a long time, facing the direction of the mountain, though she couldn't see it. It might even be too late to catch up with her...

Abby's resolve crumbled. As a healer, her warrior training paled in comparison to Clarke, who had trained since the age of twelve and was now ready to take on a second herself. She wasn't leaving her daughter to go into the mountain alone, though. Not again. Not this time. If it meant exile, then so be it.

She dove into the forest, prowling through the dark as silently as possible. There was no way that Clarke would head directly for the mountain. No, she'd head for the mines. Pausing by a large tree on a rise, she looked to the sky to get her bearings, finding the north star and turning west.

"You," came a male voice from the forest to her left. A sentry. Damn it. "Where are you going?"

He had an arrow drawn and pointed at her chest, but she was in no mood to be intimidated by anyone. "I'm collecting herbs for the wounded. Lower your weapon."

After a long stare, the man did, though he didn't look like he believed her at all. "You are aware, of course, of the terms the commander made with the mountain men?"

"Of course." She returned his stare, level and hard.

"Good."

"I'll be on my way, then," she said, and made to move past him. He held out a hand to stop her.

"I will join you," he said. His voice was casual, but his eyes screamed warning and one hand rested on the dagger at his belt. Abby wasn't getting past him, not tonight. She'd have to find another way.

"Do whatever you want," she replied dismissively, and this time did move past him. With no other choice, she foraged, irritated, though at least she managed to find some plantain and wild onion. He stayed a ways off, but kept an eye on her the entire time. She contemplated slitting his throat and making a run for it, but Abby was a better healer than she was a warrior, and if she didn't make it to Clarke, then she'd be put to death.

So she collected her plants and finally lost her unwanted guard on the outskirts of Tondc, resolving to try again in the morning, when the other women would be venturing into the forest to gather and hunt.


	6. Chapter 6

Two days. Clarke had been gone for two days and the commander was well aware of it. She wasn't the only one, either. Lincoln was gone as well, and the both of them had been branded traitors. Tension in the village med it too dangerous for Abby to venture out, but on the third day, she was able to slip past the sentries just before daybreak, reaching the outskirts of the sky people's camp at midday. Finding sky people alive there was unexpected, and the two guards she came upon didn't see her as she dashed behind a nearby stump, heart pounding, ears catching their conversation.

"A shame to waste a facility like that," one of the guards said. "Everything we'd ever need to survive is in there, and the mountain's a good defence position."

The second guard snorted. "I ain't spending the rest of my life in a bunker. Been there, done that. I like these trees, man. And anyway, it'd be kinda gross, after they all died in there."

"What are they doing with the bodies?" the first guard asked. "That would be one hell of a hole to dig."

"Putting them somewhere in the mines, I think," the second guard replied. "A few explosives will bury them. Raven's working on it."

Abby was stunned. How? It couldn't be possible that they'd wiped out the mountain men, and yet there was the evidence. Lexa had severely underestimated the sky people, and their people would be furious when they found out. Carefully, Abby crept away, because if the sky people had wiped out the mountain men, then it was best for her to stay away. She could find Clarke another way, perhaps try-

"Grounder!"

Abby broke into a run, silently cursing herself for being careless. They pounded after her and started gaining on her, for despite her superiority in navigating the forest, the men had longer legs than she did. When the one was just about upon her, she skidded to a halt and spun, knife drawn, aiming for his gut as her arm swung through the air. She missed. Two on one was no match for her, and the second man hit her in the side with a crackling something that felt like lightening and sent a jolt through her body. Screaming, she fell to her knees, and in an instant her weapon was gone and her hands were bound behind her back.

"Let's go," one of them said, the other falling into step as they marched her toward their camp. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe Clarke was there.

She didn't see her, though, as they walked her through the metal gate. The people looked at her with interest and a little fear, and questions shouted at the two guards were ignored. No Clarke. Damn.

Inside the crashed ship, the shouting voices faded away. She was led to a quiet, fairly barren room and secured with bound wrists to a wall, and then momentarily left. The man who next entered had a kind face, but was clearly disinterested in a friendly approach.

"Who are you?" he asked. "And what were you doing outside our camp?"

Abby answered with silence. It was a pointless tactic now that the sky people knew they spoke English, but it did allow her to keep the upper hand. She remained silent as the man bombarded her with questions, and finally called her on her silence.

Like that was going to get her to talk.

A second guard came in. "Miller. Kane's party is approaching."

"Was Raven able to get a refrigeration unit working?"

"Yes, and the storage space is ready as well."

"Good." Casting a final glance at Abby, Miller followed the second guard from the room, closing the door behind him.

She mulled over their conversation. Either they'd gone on a very large hunting expedition, or they were bringing in supplies from the mountain they'd just slaughtered. The mountain had been the source of evil for so long that nobody Abby knew would want anything to do with whatever was in there, valuable as it might be. The sky people were truly a different breed, and there was something deeply disturbing about their ruthlessness.

She was left alone for an indiscernible amount of time. With no windows, she had no sense of time passing, but sounds occasionally drifted in from outside: people walking by outside the door, and shouts far away. When they began to die away, though, she felt that evening must be setting in. Was Clarke out there with them, settling in for the night? Did she know Abby was here? Or had she died in the mountain?

Sometime later, when she'd closed her eyes and resigned herself to a cold night and an empty stomach, the door opened again. When she opened her eyes, she found the man in the doorway staring at her like he'd seen a ghost.

He was much handsomer not covered in dust and with a healthy flush to his cheeks. His presence was commanding but his dark eyes were gentle.

_I never thought you were real._

His words came back to her, the only thing he'd ever said to her. She knew his voice, though, and in that moment when he stood frozen in the doorway, she wanted nothing more than to hear it again. To hell with the silent treatment. She already had the upper hand.

"Hello, Kane," she said.

 

*

 

She was real.

The hope that sprung forth somewhere in his chest was painful after so long, so much so that he could do nothing but stand in the doorway and stare at her while his heart raced and he tried to regain control of his breathing.

Her head was turned to the side, her hair blocking her face, but it was unmistakably her. If it weren't for the fact that the others had brought her in and spoken with her, he'd have thought he was full-on crazy and hallucinating. Then again, maybe he was, but if he was hallucinating, he'd have expected to have more than a slight headache.

She turned to look at him. Brown eyes. Wild hair, half of it pulled back with braids but with a few strands loose around her face. Serious expression, perhaps a little sad, with a hard set to her mouth that said she didn't smile much. Beautiful. He was fascinated by her movements, seeing her come to life.

"Hello, Kane," she said. She knew his name. How?

Silently cursing himself, he forced himself to get a grip, starting with shutting the door behind him. Once that was accomplished, he took a few steps into the room and pulled up the lone chair that was there, making sure to stay a safe distance away. Just because she was here didn't mean that he didn't have to be cautious. She was a grounder, after all, and sky people and grounders were... well, they weren't friends anymore.

He couldn't stop staring at her, and he was probably being rude. She didn't seem to mind, though, in fact she met his gaze steadily, her eyes shrewd and assessing. The scent of herbs came to him, light but unmistakable, and that was when everything made sense.

"You were in Tondc," he said.

"Yes."

"You made the poultice. I... I thought..."

"You thought I was a dream," she said. "Jackson said you had an injury to your head."

Jackson hadn't mentioned a word about her, and Marcus was overcome with the urge to march out and throttle the doctor. All this time he'd been thinking he was crazy, that he'd finally lost his goddamned mind, and he hadn't after all.

"I'm afraid I don't know your name," he said. God, he wanted to know her name.

"I am Abby kom Trikru," she replied evenly. "I'm a healer from a village south of Tondc who was summoned for the battle. Where is my daughter?"

Another piece fell into place. "Ah. Clarke."

"Yes." Her face told him that despite currently being restrained, his life would be forfeit if given the wrong answer.

"She's at the mountain, helping us to gather supplies and probably arguing with Bellamy Blake."

That elicited a smile, which made him stupidly happy. Even having just spoken to her for a few minutes, she made him feel more alive than he'd felt in years. If an illusion could come to life, then maybe there was hope in the universe, after all. In that moment, if she'd have told him to throw himself off a cliff, he'd probably have done it. It was important that he kept his feelings hidden, though. He was an adult and a leader and having a boyish crush on a woman he barely knew wasn't something he would allow to affect his decision-making.

"I need to get to that mountain," she said, the words sounding more like an order.

"And I need to know if your people are a threat," he replied. "Clarke and Lincoln are exiles and can't provide me with any information, but you can."

"Why would I help you?"

"Because we have your daughter."

Her eyes narrowed, but after a pause, she held out her bound wrists. "Fine. Free me and we'll talk."

Weighing the pros and cons of that, he decided that an act of trust was the only thing that was going to earn her trust, and so he crouched down and unshackled her. When she was freed, she rubbed her wrists and looked calm enough.

Then she pulled back and kicked him in the chest, and bolted for the door.

Coughing and stumbling, he shot after her, triumphant when he caught her up at the door she had no idea how to open, pinning her against it with his body.

"I let you go," he said. "Why did you do that?"

"Because you're a fool," she replied. He had her arms pinned above her head, but she shoved back with her hips, the only result of which was to plant her ass firmly against his crotch, which was decidedly _not_ what he wanted.

"Stop that," he ordered, which of course only resulted in her doing it again, and harder this time. It was obvious where Clarke had gotten her strong will and recklessness from. The woman was a complete pain in the ass.

"Make me," she growled.

Before she could do it again, he pulled her back against him, forcing her arms down and locking his around her, firmly restraining her. She was strong, and she struggled, but after a minute or so finally stopped. He could almost feel the fury rolling off of her, though, and despite being irritated himself, a part of him was enjoying having the length of her body pressed against his and her wild hair in his face. Reminding himself to be a leader despite the ridiculousness of the entire situation, he counted down from ten before speaking.

"I understand that this isn't the best way to negotiate," he said. "Clarke will be back tomorrow and I'll bring her to you. Now if I let you go, will you stop trying to fight me?"

There was an angry silence, but she nodded. He let her go with more caution this time, prepared if she lashed out again, but thankfully she didn't. When she spun around to face him, her cheeks were flushed pink and she met his gaze with a defiant stare that sent all kinds of indecent thoughts spinning through his mind. He really did not need this kind of sexual tension with anyone, let alone a woman he barely knew whose people were a threat.

Her eyes fell from his, dipping down his body and back up again. He needed to get out of the room and out of her presence.

"Get some sleep," he said. "We'll talk tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," she said, as he started for the door. He couldn't get out fast enough, and once outside, doubled checked the lock and let out a heavy breath and felt his head clear. God, she made him feel like a drunken, bumbling idiot. There was no way he was letting her stay here. The quicker he could send her back to Tondc, the better.

"Get a fucking grip, Marcus," he muttered.


	7. Chapter 7

Abby was no stranger to desire in men's eyes, but never had she seen such a burning intensity like in his. He wanted her, and despite doing her best to hide it, she wanted him, too. Silently chiding herself, she ran through all the reasons why it couldn't happen, and at the end of it, was left on edge and disappointed.

Moving back against the far wall, she slid down, thankful that she wasn't restrained anymore but not crazy about the idea of spending the night on a cold floor. At least it was dry, though, and it was warm enough. If Kane was to be trusted, Clarke would be here tomorrow, and all would be resolved. Maybe. Clarke couldn't come home with her, not after disobeying the commander's orders, and Abby wasn't sure she'd be safe among the sky people. The mountain men as a threat were gone, and the only threat to the sky people now were her own people. 

Did she really want to spy for Kane, though? If she were caught, it would mean her death. But if it would keep Clarke safe...

She'd think about it more tomorrow, after she heard what he had to say. Yawning, she laid down on the floor, using her arm as a pillow. She was hungry, her stomach aching and empty, but she had too much pride to bang on the door and ask for food. Sleep came with drifting thoughts, Kane's face amongst them.

In the morning one of the guards took her out to relieve herself, and when she was brought back, there was food and water waiting. She attacked it with enthusiasm, content with a full belly afterward. Nobody came after that, not for hours, and she was left to wander around the room, wondering if she was being lied to and Clarke wasn't coming after all, and contemplating whether to take out the next guard who entered and make a run for the mountain and her daughter. 

When the door finally opened hours later, though, it was Clarke who came through.

"Mom!" She ran into Abby's arms, and Abby breathed a sigh of relief. Her baby was alive. Safe.

"Clarke, you shouldn't be here," Abby said, after Clarke pulled away.

"Neither should you," Clarke shot back defiantly. "One of the mountain men got away and is still out there, and you're not a warrior."

"I can handle myself. Why did you do it, Clarke?"

"Jus drein jus daun," Clarke replied, with a shrug. "And I did, too. We killed them. All of them. If it means I can never go home again, then so be it."

"Let me talk to the commander," Abby pleaded. "Maybe I can convince her to pardon you-"

"No," Clarke replied, in a tone that said the discussion was over. Abby sighed. There would be no talking sense into Clarke, which meant that keeping her safe involved accepting Kane's offer. It wouldn't be difficult to find an excuse to stay in Tondc –there were still wounded to tend to, after all, and Abby had friends there- but it would be difficult to sneak around. Very little escaped Indra's notice, and the woman was ruthless. 

The door opened again, and this time Kane stepped in. She considered herself too old to get butterflies in her stomach at the sight of a man, but they were there anyway. His eyes found hers immediately, and for a moment he almost looked like he might smile before his expression turned serious once again.

"I made my choice," Clarke continued, turning to Kane. "That doesn't mean she has to stay, though."

"No," Kane said. "We need her in Tondc. When the news reaches the commander about the mountain, she's going to make a move. She'll either decide that we're too great a threat and try to wipe us out, or she'll decide we're too great a threat not to have as an ally. If she chooses war, we need to be prepared."

"If Lexa calls for war, she'll wipe you out by sheer numbers," Clarke said. She turned back to Abby. "Does she know about the mountain yet?"

"I don't think so," Abby replied.

"Good. You're going to tell her, and then you're going to keep us informed of her next move."

Abby didn't feel like she had any choice but to agree with her daughter. Spying on her own people was a crime that would be punishable by torture at the very least, followed by death if the stakes were high enough. She was valuable as a healer, so it would probably be torture for her regardless.

"She needs to go now," Clarke told Kane. "If Lexa finds out that you've been holding her prisoner, she'll take it as an act of war."

"Will you be safe?" Kane asked, eyes meeting Abby's.

"Yes." She already knew what she would say to the commander. There was no way she'd give Lexa the slightest chance to declare war on the people who were harbouring her daughter.

"I'll walk you to the gate," Kane said, moving to the door and opening it. 

Abby turned to Clarke, who threw herself into her mother's arms. 

"Be safe," Abby whispered. Clarke nodded as Abby let her go, and Abby walked out before she had a chance to think too much about leaving her daughter. 

People whispered and stared as she and Kane walked through the camp, but Abby paid them no mind, easily keeping up with his stride. To her surprise, he walked her right out the gate and to the edge of the forest, finally stopping there and turning to her, dark eyes penetrating deep into her mind and body. She could lose herself in those eyes if she let herself. 

"Do you know where the dropship is?" he asked.

"Yes. I passed it on my way here."

"Good." He pulled something from his pocket, a length of black string. A shoelace? He indicated her wrist, and she held out her arm, watching how deftly his fingers moved as they wound it around several times.

"Meet me at the dropship at noon four days from now," he said, tying the ends together. "If you can't make it, we'll try again four days after that."

"And what is this for?" she asked, indicating the shoelace. 

"That's for you to leave at the dropship if you're in danger," he replied. Their eyes met again, and she held his gaze steadily. "If you can't get to the dropship, leave it at Lincoln's cave."

"And then what? You'll come and save me?"

He just smiled and started to turn back toward his camp. "Safe journey, Abby."

"Kane," she said, and he turned back to look at her. "They say all sky people have two names. What's your second name?"

"Kane," he replied, his smile painfully beautiful. "My first name is Marcus."

"Marcus," she said. "I'll see you soon, Marcus."

And with that, she walked into the forest.

It was near dark when she arrived back in Tondc, the last of a red sunset gracing the sky to the west. The village was still recovering from the missile, and was still busy with activity even at such a late hour. The commander's tent was set up in the forest with the remaining army, and Abby went straight there, having spent the journey back rehearsing her words and praying that she had them just right.

"I need to see the commander," she told the two guards posted outside the door.

"The commander is in council," one of the guards replied. 

"Good. The others will want to hear this as well."

The guard clearly did not like being ordered around, however subtle Abby might have been, but he ducked inside anyway. A minute later he came out again, holding the doorflap open for her.

The tent was lit by candles, and around the table stood Lexa, Anya, and Indra, discussing what looked to be a plan for rebuilding the village. Indra looked displeased at Abby's invasion, but then she always looked that way. Abby had butted heads with the woman on more than one occasion, but respected her in the end. She had, after all, trained Clarke to be a warrior, and she had done a good job at it.

"Hello, Abby," Lexa said. "Speak, and be quick about it."

"I broke the rules," Abby confessed. "I went to see my daughter."

Indra's hand moved to the weapon on her belt, while Anya's posture stiffened. Lexa's reaction was harder to read, but one of the reasons she was a good commander was because she always listened to everything a person had to say before giving orders. She would hear what Abby would have to say for that very reason. That, and because she and Clarke had been lovers for a short time a few years back, when they were seconds together under Anya and Indra.

"Clarke is alive," Lexa stated. Abby thought she detected a hint of surprise in the woman's voice.

"She's alive, and so are the sky people," Abby said. "They killed the mountain men."

"Impossible!" Indra cut in. "She's lying-"

Lexa held up a hand to silence her. "And why should I believe such an outrageous story?"

"Because I have no reason to lie," Abby replied honestly. "Send scouts and see for yourself."

Lexa considered that for a moment before looking to Anya. "Go. Take Tristan and Rivo."

"Yes, commander," Anya replied and strode out. 

"Commander, if this is true-" Indra started.

"I know," Lexa replied, cutting her off abruptly. "I know what is means."

What it meant was Lexa's death, because it was she who had made the decision to break the alliance with the sky people, a decision which should never have resulted in the sky people's survival. Many people were already outraged at the deal with the enemy, and when they found out that it had deprived them of revenge against the mountain men, Lexa would be killed and the alliance of the twelve clans would fall apart. How Lexa went forward until that moment was crucial. 

Abby was banking on the value of the information to save her own life. 

"Abby," Lexa said, her voice betraying none of the worry that must be running through her mind. "This information is most useful and I thank you for it. However, you did disobey an order that under the circumstances at the time could have jeopardized your people."

"I accept my punishment," Abby replied, lifting her chin. Indra's hand moved to her weapon again.

"Ten lashes. The punishment will be carried out at daybreak. Indra, make certain that she doesn't go anywhere."

"Yes, commander," Indra replied, moving forward and taking Abby's arm in hand. "Come."

Abby was relieved and afraid all at once. She'd hoped for a punishment less than death, which could have meant any number of things. Ten lashes was far from the harshest survivable punishment, but it was far from the best as well. It meant pain, and she would bleed.

Still, it meant she'd live to see Clarke another day. That alone was worth it.

She half-expected Indra to tie her to a tree for the night, but instead Abby was allowed to go back to her own tent, albeit with a guard posted outside. Sleep that night was dispersed with fits of fear and worry, of anticipation of the punishment that would occur when the sun rose. When morning finally came, though, Abby felt strong. It was worth it in the end. Her strength wavered for just a moment when Indra marched her to the blood-covered post in what was once the centre of the village. It had somehow survived the blast, but there was rubble scattered around it, ruined houses and peoples' possessions.

Abby steeled herself as she was secured to the post, hands above her head. Someone cut her shirt up the back, and the cool air sent goosebumps down her arms. She could handle this. She would. There was no other choice.

Lexa appeared a moment later, eyes meeting Abby's briefly as she walked out, whip in hand. The weapon was designed specifically for punishment, for breaking skin and inflicting damage. 

"Abby has put our people in danger by disobeying my orders," Lexa announced to the crowd who had been summoned to watch. "She has gone into the mountain men's territory, risking our truce with them. Today she will be receiving ten lashes in punishment, but be warned: the next person who disobeys me will be put to death in this same spot."

Abby barely had time to register the murmur amongst the crowd before she felt the stinging cut of the first lash. A cry of pain escaped, and she felt a trickle of blood run down her back. There was no time to brace herself for the next one, because it came immediately, more painful than the first. Lexa was careful with the whip, never cutting the same place twice, and pausing after the fifth lash. Abby thought her knees might give out in the haze of pain, the pause giving her a chance to steel herself.

The sixth lash hit, and this time her cry was a scream. Steadily -not too quickly but not too slowly, either- the last four came, and when it was finally over, Abby allowed herself to collapse against the post and then into the arms of Nyko, who caught her when Indra cut her down.

"Foolish woman," Nyko muttered, barking orders at his apprentice as he slung her over his shoulder. Before she passed out, she felt herself being lowered onto a table somewhere, and something cool being pressed against her back.

When she woke, her mind was a haze of pain, her back on fire. Every breath was agony. A groping hand told her that none of the wounds required stitching, though, and that they had been cleaned and were slowly scabbing over. She expected that the bruising around the wounds would hurt more than the cuts themselves.

"Ah, the fool is awake," Nyko said, ducking into the tent. He had a flask in hand, and this he held up to her lips so that she could drink. She would have preferred water, but the mead was welcome anyway, and after she'd taken a few swallows, Nyko withdrew again. 

She slept.


	8. Chapter 8

Marcus slept fitfully the night before he was to meet Abby, his mind tormented by terrible dreams. The faces of those he'd killed in section seventeen came to him, some dead and others opening their eyes and demanding retribution. Marcus tried to tell them that he was wrong, and that he was sorry, and that he deserved to die, but when he opened his mouth, all that spilled forth was blood. He saw Wells Jaha alone on the Ark, gasping for air, and then it was him there, alone in space, the metal of the floor cool against his cheek. His lungs burned. Pain flared through his back. He woke in a cold sweat with his mother's voice resonating through his mind. _Would you take the tree down for me?_

At dawn he rose, putting himself through the motions of the day. His pending meeting with Abby stayed in the back of his mind, and he'd have been lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to it. The woman was fascinating, and not just because of the dreams. Infuriating and stubborn, but beautiful and... tragic, if his sixth senses proved correct. There was something to the set of her mouth and the shadows behind her eyes that said that smiling was rare to her these days.

An hour before noon, he slung his gun over his shoulder and ordered the camp gates to be opened.

"Wait!"

He'd managed to keep his plans from most of the camp, only giving out the information to those who needed to know. Clarke, he had quickly learned, was resourceful, though, and he knew from the look on her face now that she knew exactly where he was heading.

"I'm coming with you," Clarke said, skidding to a halt beside him.

"No." That was non-negotiable, and he made sure his tone conveyed it.

"She's my mother. I need-"

"We need secrecy," he cut in. "The less people who know about this, the better. You said yourself that she's putting her life in danger."

He knew he'd won by the clenching of Clarke's jaw, and for a moment he thought she was going to argue with him, but she didn't.

"Fine," she said. "But you tell her that if she's in danger from Lexa, she is to use Lexa's weakness against her."

"And what is Lexa's weakness?" Marcus asked, mulling over the oddness of the statement.

"Me."

With that, Clarke turned and marched away, and Marcus strode through the gate and into the forest. There had been no grounders sighted around their camp in the last four days, though that didn't mean anything. If Abby had told them the news about Mount Weather, then surely they would investigate, and they were good at staying invisible in the trees. He was concerned that the grounders would want to salvage from the mountain as well. His hopes were that their tragic history with the place would keep them away, but even so there was likely to be the odd grounder venturing there. He'd put Lincoln and Octavia in charge of the salvage expeditions to the mountain, but even so, the sooner they finished, the better.

An hour's uneventful walk later, he found the dropship quiet and deserted. Disappointment came and he shoved it away, circling around the ship, gun at the ready, before venturing inside.

And there she was, sitting in one of the seats, turning her sword in her hands, point to the ground. Her eyes flicked up to his when he entered, seemingly penetrating him, stripping him bare. And goddamn, was she beautiful, with her wild hair and olive skin, and dark, fitted clothing that highlighted every single curve to her body.

He was completely fucked.

"You're late," she said, standing up. She sheathed the sword at her side, unlike Octavia, Lincoln, and Clarke, whose swords were always on their backs. Perhaps it was because she was a healer and not a warrior.

"Blame your daughter," he replied. "I have a message for you from her. If it's needed, you're to use her against Lexa."

A ghost of a smile flitted over Abby's lips. "Yes, that sounds like Clarke. Come. We'll talk upstairs in case someone's listening."

At her gesture, he went up the ladder first, and on the second floor held out a hand to help her through the hatch. She took it, and his fingers grazed her wrist, where the shoelace was still securely tied. It pleased him to see it, because it meant that she trusted him. She stumbled a little when finding her feet on the floor, and instinctively he steadied her with a hand on her back.

The tension that seized her body was quick but unmistakable, as was the small grunt that escaped her lips. Dropping his hand from her back, he studied her, not seeing much betrayal in her face, but...

"You're hurt," he stated.

"I'm alive. That's all that matters."

A sick feeling settled in his gut. What had they done to her? The thought of her receiving punishment on his account made him ashamed, and furious with himself. And here she was, risking her life again. If they killed her, her blood would always be on his hands, and he'd never forgive himself.

"Abby," he said.

"Never mind that." She waved a hand dismissively. "Clarke is Lexa's first love. They've both moved on, but Lexa still holds a soft spot for my daughter."

"I see. Is that why she didn't kill you outright?"

Abby's chin lifted defiantly. "She didn't kill me because I brought her valuable information. She sent three of our warriors to confirm it, and they returned yesterday. They saw your camp, and they saw your girl detonate the mineshaft."

Marcus hadn't been there, but he had absolutely no doubt that Raven had buried the mountain men's bodies beyond anyone's ability to find them again. She was a talented one, Raven Reyes. The blast had likely made some of the mines unstable as well, which was unfortunately a side effect of making a grave.

"And what did your leader think of that?"

"I don't know," Abby replied. "They've been in council ever since, a place I'm not welcome."

"Can you make yourself welcome?"

She shook her head. "No. Not unless I could somehow prevent-" She cut herself off, clamping her mouth shut.

"What?" She looked away, frowning, contemplating something. Then she looked at him. "Lexa will be killed for this."

"For what?"

"For depriving our people of blood. Jus drein, jus daun. It's our way. Instead we made a deal with the enemy and walked away like cowards. The alliance of the twelve clans will fall apart, and the people will never forgive her for this. Ever."

Marcus understood little of the grounders' culture, but he tried his best. "What does that mean for us?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

Clarke had helped Bellamy pull the lever that had irradiated level five and killed the mountain men. If she was affected by it, she never showed it. She was a grounder, though, and killing the mountain men was what the grounders had wanted.

"You need to let me know when it starts to happen," Marcus said, stepping toward her. "Can you meet me again?"

Abby held his stare for a long time. "Yes. Not here, though."

Out of the ship and into the forest, she led him northeast for half an hour, to a stream that ran through a nondescript piece of woods. At the base of a rise was a narrow opening, which she slipped through, disappearing into darkness. It was just wide enough for him to fit, and in the darkness his feet found cracked and crumbling concrete steps going downward. There was no choice but to sling his gun onto his back, for the damp made the steps slippery and he needed his hands to guide him along the wall.

"Abby?" he called, at the base of the tenth step.

A light flared in the dark, and as his eyes adjusted, he found himself in a square room, small and lightly furnished, and with a fireplace built into one wall. The light had come from a candle on a table in the corner. The only other thing in the room was a rough bed made of timber with a mattress that looked to be about a hundred years old. It had been a basement, he realized, or part of one. Once a part of someone's home.

"We can meet here until the first snow," Abby said. "This is a shelter used for winter hunting expeditions. We'll be safe for the time being."

Marcus nodded, trying to ignore the tug in his chest at the sight of her lit by candlelight. Shadows suited her, highlighting the graceful planes of her face and erasing the lines of tension. He knew he needed to get back to camp, but part of him wanted to linger here, to learn all her secrets, if she would let him.

"I need to get back," he forced himself to say.

"Of course."

He watched her turn toward the candle, watched her wince as she turned a little too sharply. When she was an instant from putting out the flame and plunging them into darkness again, he called for her to wait.

"Before I go... please. What did they do to you?"

Abby turned back to him slowly, and her eyes met his and held. Then, without a word, she turned her back again and pulled her shirt off over her head. There was something undeniably sexy about it, and he found himself swallowing, hard. She was wearing an undershirt underneath, and even before she reached behind and pulled up the back, he could see the red beneath the thin white fabric.

Her back was crisscrossed with thin, bloody lines.

He approached her slowly, crossing the room in seven steps. Before he could study her back further, though, they faded beneath the undershirt again, and disappeared completely when her shirt went back on. When she turned, he was almost close enough to lean in and kiss her. And he wanted to kiss her. He found his eyes dropping to her lips, and something vulnerable flashed across her face momentarily before being replaced by the cool defiance that he now recognized as a mask.

"They whipped you," he said, putting space between them again with a step back.

"Ten lashes," was her curt reply. "Meet me here in three days."

With that, she breezed by him, disappearing up the steps. Letting out a breath, he turned to the candle, holding his hand above the heat of the flame before leaning down and blowing it out. When he emerged into the light, she was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Abby broke into a run as soon as she emerged from the hunting shelter, not stopping until she was gasping for breath and her legs were burning. It wasn't enough, though. The heavy feeling in her chest and knotted, fluttery feeling in her gut was still there, and no amount of running from it would make it go away. She didn't need this. She didn't want to fall for a man she barely knew. He was the enemy, and it shouldn't have affected her so much, the way he looked in the dimly lit room under candlelight, the way his voice had softened after he'd seen her back.

She leaned against a tree while she caught her breath. A part of her longed to go after him, to ask him to sit with her and talk awhile. She'd never felt a connection like that with anyone before, and it was intoxicating and terrifying and fascinating all at the same time. She had just enough sense left to resist, because after all, what good would it do?

Hiding her feelings had always come easily to her, but not this time. This time, she didn't want to, and already it had taken everything within her to propel her legs and body into a run. He looked like a man who would walk through fire for a woman he loved, and a part of her so very badly wanted to be that woman.

And she was too old for such thoughts.

A stick cracked behind her.

Startled, she whirled around to find a strange man watching her from ten feet away. He was not one of her people, and he was dressed in a similar fashion to the sky people, all in green and carrying a backpack.

"Did Marcus send you?" she asked.

He began to walk towards her, and whether it was the threatening stride or the coolness in his eyes, something inside her screamed danger. While her instinct told her to back away, what little warrior training she had said to attack first, and so she pulled her knife and lunged forward, throwing herself at his knees and taking him down, drawing her knife across the back of his knee as she did.

"Savage bitch," he said, as he toppled backwards and crashed to the ground.

Even as he grabbed for her, she was already rolling away. Pain sliced through her thigh, and she screamed. Struggling to her feet, she took off at a lopsided run, the agony in her leg sending shockwaves of pain throughout her body. Clarke's words came to her too late.

_One of the mountain men got away..._

She knew she was badly injured and could feel her body weakening as she ran. Her pant leg was already heavy with blood, and it was pooling in her boot. When she couldn't run any longer, she stopped and tore a piece off her jacket, wrapping it tightly around her thigh and then continuing at a walk. And when her legs gave out and she couldn't walk any longer, she crawled.

And that was how Anya found her, on the path to Tondc. The younger woman picked Abby up like she was nothing and slung her over her shoulder. Abby watched the trail of blood left on the forest floor as they walked. By the time they reached Tondc, she was lightheaded and rapidly weakening.

"What happened?" Lexa demanded, emerging from her tent with Indra.

Anya set Abby on the ground and called for someone to find Nyko.

"Stabbed," Anya replied, eyes meeting Lexa's. "Sky people did this!"

"No," Abby said, but it was too late. Already there was a murmur going through the gathered people, anger catching like wildfire through a dry forest. She struggled for the right words to say to make it stop, but everything in her mind was clouded and fading.

"Sky people are just like the mountain men," Indra hissed. "They attacked one of our healers. They are the enemy."

"Yes," Lexa announced, her voice carrying over those who had gathered around. "Sky people came into our territory. They entered into an alliance with us under falsehood. In retaliation for us leaving, they have attacked one of our healers. The sky people want us dead! They have declared war!"

"No!" Abby said, but she was too weak, her voice weak and unconvincing. "I was attacked by one of the mountain men-"

"The mountain men are dead," Lexa said.

The statement was followed by a stunned silence, and then rapid chatter as her words spread.

"Yes," Lexa went on, raising her voice. "The sky people have stolen our blood debt. They knew the entire time how to defeat the mountain. They were using us because they want us to die, too. Their plan all along was to wipe us out."

Angry chatter chorused through the crowd, and Abby's protests were interrupted by the arrival of Nyko, who carried her off to his makeshift healer's hut. She passed out just as they stepped through the doorway, and when she came to, darkness had fallen and the commander was sitting by her side, watching her. Abby's leg throbbed with pain, and she struggled to form words around it. But Lexa spoke first.

"You'll say nothing," she said.

"The hell I won't," Abby croaked.

"Our people come first," Lexa replied. "We are on the cusp of winter."

All at once, Abby understood. If the alliance fell apart now, the ensuing civil war would decimate the tree people. With Tondc ruined and its winter stores burned, starvation was already a fact for the winter. A war would kill them all, and to keep the alliance of the twelve clans together, at least until spring, they needed an enemy. The sky people were it.

"You know this is only a temporary fix," Abby told Lexa, who stared back at her blandly. "There will still be dissention in the ranks."

"Maybe." In one quick motion, there was a knife pressed to Abby's neck. "Don't make me kill you, Abby."

"You kill me, my daughter will come for you," Abby said. "She'll blow this whole lie up in your face. Do you know who helped killed the mountain men, Lexa? She did. She was there. And she will use that to rally the people to her and burn you at the stake and you know it."

Lexa stared at her for a long, hard moment. "You will do this for your people," she said, in a tone that ended the conversation. Then she walked out.

Abby slept. When she woke in the morning, her body was burning with fever.

For two days, the fever raged through Abby's body, and she drifted in and out of delirium, faces coming and going and nonsense falling from their lips. Sometimes she thought she saw Marcus there, too, always standing in the background, always silent. She called for him silently, reached out a hand to draw him close, to confess her secrets, but someone always gently pressed her hand back down. In moments of lucidity, she could feel her body steadily weakening, her heart pounding harder and harder and a sense of dread filling her mind.

In one such moment of lucidity, Nyko told her that the knife wound was deep, and no amount of cleansing or poultices could draw out the infection.

Abby was dying.

She fought it with every bit of strength left inside her. Even so, it wasn't enough. On the morning of the third day, she woke from the delirium to find Mona sitting by her side, holding her hand and looking grave. That expression was all it took for Abby to know what she needed to do to survive. Nyko couldn't help her anymore.

"Mona," she gasped, reaching out and clutching at the younger woman's arm. "Help me."

"Nyko has done all he can," Mona said sadly.

Abby dug her nails into her arm. "Do you want me to live?"

Mona frowned. "Of course."

"Then take the string on my wrist, and tie it to a branch outside of Lincoln's cave."

Mona's eyes went to the shoelace with a pitying look, like she thought Abby was crazy. "Abby-"

Abby dug her nails in as hard as she could. "Do it."

After a long look, Mona nodded. Untying the shoelace, Mona took it in hand and disappeared, and Abby fell into darkness again, praying that he would come for her before it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say that I'm not trying to make Lexa the big bad here. She's just trying to save her people. I reckon she, Indra, and Anya in their council meetings already decided to make the sky people the new enemy, and Emerson attacking Abby gave them just what they needed to make it so. Politics! 
> 
> I do wonder how they'll handle the situation in the show, though.


	10. Chapter 10

One more night. 

Marcus paced the fence after dark, unable to sleep, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. Despite wanting to believe in greater things, Marcus had held fast to logic and rules these last few years, and it was those things he fell back on now. Of course there was nothing wrong. He wasn't going to go early tomorrow. He was going to meet her right on time, and she would be there.

He went to bed repeating those things to himself, but a knot was still there in his stomach, and it didn't dissipate by morning. He left early to meet Abby, and with each step the knot grew. There was no shoelace at the dropship, though, and he carried onto the hunting shelter telling himself that there was nothing wrong and she'd be there. 

And she wasn't there. For an hour he waited inside the hunting shelter, and then outside of it, his feet finally propelling him towards Lincoln's cave before he'd even really decided to do it. The cave was in grounder territory, but distant from any of the villages. Lincoln had told him the best way to get there unseen, and Marcus took the route as quickly and carefully as possible, his guardsman training taking over.

Everything crumbled when he saw it tied to the tree just outside the entrance. Forgetting stealth, he rushed to it, staring at it for a long moment before untying it and stuffing it into his pocket.

Abby was in danger.

Gun in hand, he raced back to Camp Jaha. Getting to Tondc would take hours, but he wasn't about to go walking in there without a plan. He found Clarke with Octavia and Lincoln, the three of them teaching Monroe, Harper, and Nathan Miller knife-throwing skills. Marcus pulled Clarke aside as unobtrusively as possible and explained the situation, showing her the shoelace.

Clarke's face went grim. "She wouldn't use it unless it was serious," she said. "We need to leave. Now."

"What's your plan?" Marcus asked.

"My plan?" A little smile appeared on Clarke's face. "I'm going to confront the commander and pull my mom out of there. I need some charcoal."

Clarke walked out of the camp fifteen minutes later with her hair braided, war paint on her face, and armed to the teeth. Bellamy was behind her, gun in hand. The last thing Marcus wanted was to turn this into an act of war, but the look on Bellamy's face told him that his presence wasn't up for negotiation. The pair had an odd bond, guarding each other's backs like they'd known each other for years. He supposed committing mass murder together would do that.

They ran as much as they could on the way to Tondc. Clarke knew shortcuts that were safe to use now that the mountain men were gone, and in the end they slipped into the ruined village just as the sun was setting. Marcus and Bellamy could do nothing but keep up, for Clarke had a plan, and it was clear that she was going through with it with or without their help.

They stayed back behind a pile of rubble, guns at the ready, as Clarke strolled into the open. Shouting began as soon as she made herself visible, but she seemed to expect it, walking right out into what used to be the village square. Then she pulled a gun from somewhere in her clothing.

"You gave her a gun?" Marcus asked Bellamy. Already warriors were running out, weapons at the ready. If things went south, they'd all be dead.

"She found it in the mountain," the young man replied. "She likes weapons."

Clarke pointed the gun into the air and fired. While people screamed and ran, she came to a stop.

"Where's my mom?" she demanded.

A warrior threw a knife at her, which she dodged. A brief fight ensued, which ended with Clarke's gun to the man's head and the commander running in with Indra, Anya, and several others behind her.

"Stand down!" Lexa barked at them. "You return here at risk of your life, Clarke."

"Get the hell out of my way, Lexa," Clarke replied. "You don't want to kill me any more than I want to kill you. Give me my mom or I'll put a bullet in Tristan's brain, and then yours."

Both Indra and Anya moved forward as if to attack, but Lexa held up a hand to stop them. "Give the traitor what she wants. Give her the dead woman."

Something hard slammed into Marcus's chest, and he nearly ran out, but Bellamy put a hand on his arm. It was a few tense minutes before Nyko appeared, a bundle in his arms that could only be Abby. Marcus was too far away to see whether she really was dead or not. Praying was something that he'd only recently begun to indulge in again, and he didn't feel that it was within his rights to do so, but he did anyway. He prayed.

In a few short seconds, Tristan's place was taken by Nyko, with Abby still in his arms. Clarke backed out of the village, gun to Nyko's head. Withdrawing the way they came, Marcus and Bellamy ran into the forest, circling around and meeting Clarke on the main trail to the village.

"Take her," Clarke said.

And then Abby was in his arms, wrapped in a blanket. Breathing. Alive. Warm. Too warm. Burning.

"What happened?" he asked.

Nyko didn't seem inclined to answer him at first, but something eventually gave way in the healer's eyes. "She was attacked in the woods. The knife wound is in her thigh, and it's killing her."

"Emerson," Bellamy said.

"Go," Clarke said, shoving Nyko away. "Keep your eyes on the forest, Bellamy."

Marcus couldn't run with Abby in his arms, but he hurried as fast as he could. Several times weapons came out of the forest towards them, arrows and knives and flung swords that Clarke returned. She never fired the gun. Under the cover of darkness, things became easier, and they were finally able to stop for a rest after crossing the river. Marcus set Abby down, cradling her in his lap while he scooped water with his hand and brought it to her lips. Clarke tore a scrap of fabric from her clothing and soaked it, running it across Abby's forehead.

"Mom?" Clarke asked. The worry was plain in her voice now.

Abby began to shiver, and Clarke took the cloth away. She stirred, eyes fluttering open briefly, looking at Marcus like she was seeing him in a dream, and then fluttering closed again. She rested her head on his shoulder as he took her in his arms and climbed to his feet again.

"It was dangerous of you to come," she murmured.

"I'm not letting you die," he told her. "You need antibiotics, and we have them."

There were a million other things that he wanted to whisper to her, on the long walk back to camp. He wanted to tell her about meeting her in his dreams. About losing faith, and finding it again in her. Instead, he carried her until his arms were screaming in pain, and beyond that when the pain turned to numbness. He counted her breaths. He prayed some more.

When they reached Camp Jaha sometime past midnight, he woke half the camp and dragged Jackson out of bed. Sleepy but as loyal as ever, Jackson followed orders and went to work. Marcus waited outside the medical tent, pacing back and forth and then finally sitting down with his back to a metal bin just outside. The silence from the medical tent was more than he could bear, but the only thing keeping him from making a nuisance of himself and going back in was the weariness that crept into his body. Telling himself he was just going to lay down for a moment, he closed his eyes...

...and woke with an aching body in the morning, cradling his gun. Someone had covered him with a blanket during the night, even taking the time to tuck it around him a little. Groaning, he sat up, catching the attention of Raven Reyes and Finn Collins, who were walking by.

"So you like her, huh?" Raven quipped, while Finn laughed.

"Our fearless leader," Marcus heard Finn say, as they moved off.

He should have been embarrassed, but he wasn't. With a few more groans he was on his feet and ducking into the medical tent. Abby was there in one of the beds, asleep. He didn't want to wake her, so he put a hand to her forehead as gently as possible. She was still warm, but the colour in her face looked better, and her breathing was strong and steady.

"She's going to make it," came a voice from his right. Clarke was there, in a nearby chair. "You care for her, don't you?"

Marcus had no reply to that but honesty. "Yes."

"She killed my father, did you know that?" Clarke's eyes had gone a little sad. "He was a reaper. He was killing me and she did what she had to do. It hurts, but I think maybe I understand more than she does. She's been alone since then."

By choice, was Clarke's implication. Maybe Abby thought she didn't deserve a second chance at happiness after killing her husband. Maybe she'd hate Marcus after she found out all the terrible things he'd done on the Ark.

Maybe he didn't deserve her, either.

"If you can make her smile again," Clarke said, "you should."


	11. Chapter 11

Abby came to with a distinct memory in her nose. Sweat and dirt and cedar branches and... the essence of a male body. There was the sense of being carried as well, of feeling safe despite shouting and the sound of weapons, and cool water in a hand at her lips in sharp contrast to the burning fever in her body.

She opened her eyes and found herself in a strange tent. A glance around told her that she was in the sky people's camp, and she couldn't remember getting there, but she remembered Mona and the shoelace. Marcus had come for her, and that knowledge gave her a little thrill that she held fast to and cherished. Her body felt weak, her skin coated with dried sweat. But she was going to live.

A young man entered the tent, face breaking into a smile when he saw that she was awake.

"Jackson," she said, managing a weak smile in return.

"Welcome back," he replied. "You've been in and out for a couple days. Your fever broke last night."

He went straight to a box and began fiddling with something. When he approached her, he held a small vial in his hand with a thin, sharp point on the end.

"What is that?" she asked, eyeing it warily.

"Antibiotics," the healer replied, with a smile. "You still need a few more days of it. Don't worry, it doesn't hurt much."

She did not like having strange liquids injected into her arm, but he was right when he said it didn't hurt much. Afterward, he checked her temperature and the wound on her thigh. The ugliness that had been there before was gone, and it was neatly stitched shut. She watched as he placed a bandage over it, neat and so very clean.

"Thank you," she said.

He nodded. "I'll see if I can find you some food."

When she was alone again, she glanced around the room, trying to see if her clothes were nearby. She was wearing a long, heavy sweater that was cleaner than anything she'd ever worn in her life, and it smelled like someone else. If it had come from the mountain, she didn't want to know. At least it was warm, though.

There came a shuffling of footsteps outside, and a moment later Marcus entered the tent, a bundle tucked under his arm and a tray of food in hand. His face lit up when he saw her, and she couldn't help her own smile.

"Welcome back," he said, setting the tray down beside her bed. "Clarke's off hunting with some of the kids, but she'll be back later."

"Thank you," she said, eyes meeting his. "For everything."

"Nobody else dies because of me," was his strange reply. He took the bundle from under his arm and set it down at the end of the bed. "Your clothes."

"Will you join me?" she asked. On the plate was a chunk of smoked meat, an apple, and a pile of nuts. It wasn't much, but she didn't think it was good to stuff herself full of food right after an illness anyway.

For a moment Marcus looked like he was going to refuse, but then he pulled a chair up beside her bed. When he tore the chunk of meat in half, he gave her the bigger piece.

"Your cooking skills need work," she said. The meat was incredibly tough to eat. Oversmoked.

"Well, we've never cooked before, so it's trial and error," he replied.

"What did you eat, then?"

"Soy cubes."

She had no idea what a soy cube was, and didn't think she wanted to know. "How did you get me out of Tondc?"

"Didn't. That was all Clarke."

Knowing that Clarke could be impulsive and never did anything half-assed, Abby wondered just what her daughter had done. "She didn't kill the commander, did she?"

"Nope," Marcus replied. "Threatened her with a gun, yes."

"A gun? No."

Marcus confirmed it with a nod, and she fell silent, mulling over the implications. Her people didn't touch guns. Anyone who touched a gun would cause the mountain men to burn down their village. 

"She's one of you now," Abby said. 

"You think?" Marcus asked. "She seems fairly grounder-ish to me."

"She handled a gun."

"But the mountain men are gone. Nobody's coming to burn down your village if she handles a gun."

"They're not gone, though. I'm in this bed because of one, and the stories are –the alliance. Oh my god, Marcus."

He looked at her. "What is it?"

She struggled to remember all of Lexa's speech. "She blamed my attack on your people. To save herself and our clan. The alliance was formed against a common enemy, the mountain men, and it's in danger of falling apart now that they're dead and because of Lexa's decision to agree to a truce with them. Marcus, she used my attack to make you the enemy. It won't last, but..."

"But we now have twelve grounder clans turned against us," he said. His face had gone pale. "Excuse me."

He got up and strode out of the tent, and moments later she heard him barking orders outside. She listened until his voice faded away, and then eased herself from the bed and dressed herself. Whoever had washed her clothes had done a good job, for even the bloodstains were gone, and the hole from the knife had been sewn up. It felt good to be in her own things again. She was just pulling on her jacket when Marcus reappeared.

"Will your people attack?" he asked.

"Not unless provoked," she replied. "They're more concerned with rebuilding Tondc and getting through the winter. Do nothing that can be construed as an act of war."

"I put the camp on lockdown," he said. "Nobody is going into that forest without my approval."

Abby found her boots on the floor next to the bed and sat down to put them on. "I need to go into the forest."

"Did you not hear what I just said?" Exasperation was in Marcus's voice, and a quick glance found him frowning at her.

"I don't need your approval. I'm going to the creek to bathe." She finished tying her boots and stood up. The frown on his face had turned speculative, and she wondered if he was picturing her naked. She quietly enjoyed the idea, somehow managing to hide a smile and instead staring at him with outright defiance.

"Fine. I'll have Raven go with you."

"No. You'll go with me."

She knew how it sounded, but the truth was, she was among strange people and he was one of the few people she felt safe with. After staring at her for a long moment, he shrugged and went off to get his gun.

 

*

 

Marcus as chancellor didn't like being ordered around by some grounder healer, but as a man, he didn't much mind being ordered around by a beautiful woman. A part of him even enjoyed it. Still, as they walked out the gate, he couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed, especially when two of the delinquents started yelling at him.

"Hey, chancellor! Where you going with your girlfriend?" That was Nathan Miller, and Monty Green joined him in making kissy sounds at them. They were doing something with some stereo equipment and a solar panel, all salvaged from Mount Weather.

"Is everyone in this camp a grounder pounder?" Murphy added loudly, while the other two laughed. 

Sometimes Marcus regretted pardoning the delinquents, because some of them could be absolute little shits. On the other hand, though, their determination to have fun was a godsend amongst things like war and mass murder.

"Shut up," he told them, catching a smile flashing across Abby's face as he said it. 

Abby's pace slowed by the time they reached the forest. The infection had obviously taken a toll on her body, because by the time they reached the creek, she sat down on a log beside it, looking very much exhausted.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, scanning the forest around them for any sort of movement. "It is November, you know."

"Yes," she replied. She began to take off her coat, and he turned his back, making himself busy scanning the forest for threats. Half a minute later, when he heard splashing, he told himself that he was a gentleman and she deserved her privacy, and above all things, he was not going to look.

So of course he looked. Just to make sure that there were no enemies coming at her from the other side of the creek, of course.

The water wasn't deep enough to submerge in at this part of the creek, but she'd waded in up to her calves and was using a small scrap of cloth they'd brought along to wash herself. His throat tightened at the image of her, like a water nymph in her element. The lines on her back made her look more like a warrior, though, and while he watched, she reached back and squeezed water over them with her cloth. He turned away again, closing his eyes briefly. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"Can I have that towel?" she asked, after ten minutes.

She was still mostly turned away from him when he turned around to hand her the towel. Her hair was wet, and she was shivering. One of her hands was outstretched towards him, the other covering her breasts. He hurriedly handed her the thing and turned away. Towels were amongst the things that they'd pilfered from the mountain, useful as small blankets as well as their intended purpose. 

"You can turn around now," she said.

She was dressed now, but she was shivering quite badly. It occurred to him that he probably never should have allowed her to strip naked and wash herself in a freezing cold creek after having had a raging fever and infection. Not that he could have stopped her, but Jackson was going to kill him. 

"Come here," he said.

She looked at him strangely. "I'm fine."

"You dunked yourself in a creek in November. I may have been born in space, but even I know that's a terrible idea." 

"You should try it sometime. I'll protect you."

"With a gun?"

"No, with my sword. Did you bring it? Do they have swords in space?"

"Are you changing the subject? Get over here."

She didn't move, so he went to her instead, grabbing her to him and wrapping his arms around her, rubbing at her back in an attempt to warm her up. Gently, so as not to break open the wounds there, though they were halfway healed anyway. She stiffened in his arms at first, and then tucked her hands up and curled into him.

"Are you always this stubborn?" he asked. 

"I prefer determined," she replied. The shivering had lessened, but she felt so good curled against him that he didn't want to stop.

"What do your people do in the winter, for bathing?" he asked.

"Bucket and a cloth by the fire."

He definitely hadn't needed that image in his mind, but it appeared anyway. There was something about firelight that made everything romantic.

"Warm enough?" he asked, after a few minutes. It came out softer than he'd intended, but the moment was getting to him.

"I think so." Her voice was hushed, and she looked up at him, eyes meeting his, holding his. His hands stilled on her back. He found himself leaning towards her, nose brushing hers, her lips just a breath away when she abruptly pulled back.

He dropped his hands and turned away, busying himself with picking up the towel and cursing himself for trying to kiss her when she clearly didn't want it. When he finally had to look at her again, he found her watching him thoughtfully, a touch of something in her eyes that looked a lot like fear. 

They walked back to camp in silence, her a little ahead of him, and she kept glancing over her shoulder back at him like she thought he'd disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few random thoughts:
> 
> I like to think that climate change made the winters come a bit later, hence it being November and Abby deciding to bathe in a creek. 
> 
> I also have this idea that Abby is a subtle flirter, like "Oops, I dropped this thing in my hand, better bend over to pick it up -oh, were you checking out my butt?" (She was testing more than one water, stripping down in front of him, heheh)
> 
> And yeah, I'm all about the slow burn, but the payoff will come very soon. ;)
> 
> PS) Your comments give me life so thank you for them. I feel rude not replying to every single one but I wanted everyone who commented to know how much I appreciate the feedback. :)


	12. Chapter 12

Clarke walked into Camp Jaha late in the afternoon, she and her companions carrying a dead deer. Abby watched from her perch outside the medical tent as her daughter barked orders at the others, and then finally turned her head and spotted Abby. Immediately she hurried over.

"Mom." Clarke threw her arms around Abby, who was bundled up in a blanket under Jackson's orders. He'd been displeased when she'd come back with wet hair and heard that she'd been in the creek. The man hadn't said anything, of course, but his pointed looks directed at Marcus had said enough.

"How was hunting?" Abby asked.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "They clomp around the forest like horses, except they think they're being quiet. It's a miracle they haven't scared off every animal in a twenty mile radius. How are you feeling?"

"Better, but weak. Clarke, the forest isn't safe." Quickly, she filled her daughter in on Lexa's tactic.

Clarke shrugged it off. "That will be enough to keep our people from turning on her, and she'll head back to Polis to do damage control. It's clever, but it won't last."

"Still," Abby said. "Marcus has given orders that nobody is to leave the camp without a guard unit and permission."

"Good thing we're not under his command, then," Clarke replied. She moved behind Abby and started braiding her hair. Abby had left it loose to dry, combing her fingers through to untangle it. "Do you have a place to stay yet? There's room in my tent."

"That sounds fine," Abby replied. She couldn't go home until the situation between their peoples was resolved, which suited her fine for the time being, because at least she'd be with Clarke.

Clarke finished one temple and gave the braid's end to Abby to hold while she moved onto the other side. "Of course, you could always share with someone else..."

Abby couldn't believe the gall of her daughter. "I could say the same for you. What's with this Bellamy fellow?"

Clarke ignored that, finishing up the second braid and tying it together with the first and securing the ends with a piece of leather. "Kane has a thing for you."

Abby sighed. "Clarke."

"What? I hate that Dad is gone, okay? I hate that you killed him, even if I understand the reasons. But it's done. Stop punishing yourself."

Abby didn't reply, her eyes finding Marcus across the camp, discussing something with the mechanics. In truth, she'd made peace with Jake's death and her part in it sometime ago. It wasn't punishment that kept her from Marcus. No, it was fear. She'd never felt so drawn to anyone in her life, and the overwhelming urge to drown in his arms like he was the ocean was terrifying. She wanted him, wanted it, badly, but their people were at war, and he was a man who would die for her. Loving him and then losing him would be too much to bear.

Clarke's tent was set up beside the looming mass of the station, away from the others who were sleeping outside as well. Clarke had already rummaged up some bedding for Abby, and with the day catching up to her, Abby lay down for a nap. She slept for an hour, waking on her own at dusk and seeking out food in the cantina. Clarke was nowhere to be seen, but Marcus was there, sitting alone at a table with a drink, so she joined him.

"Have you eaten?" she asked. On the menu tonight was an apple and a ration of oversmoked meat, same as that morning except for a cluster of dandelion greens instead of nuts.

"I have, thank you," he replied. His eyes were surveying the camp, watching the movements of his people, but when they moved to her they were accompanied by a smile.

Deciding against tackling the ridiculously tough meat for now, she grabbed the apple and bit into it. "Where's Clarke?"

"She and Jasper had an argument and Bellamy took her off to cool down," he replied, his face growing serious. "Jasper was one of the ones imprisoned in the mountain, and he formed a bond with one of the girls who lived there. She died when Clarke, Bellamy, and Monty irradiated level five."

"I see." Clarke was less than sympathetic about any of the mountain people, which obviously wouldn't go over well with someone who had sympathy for them. 

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden burst of music from across the camp, accompanied by a series of whoops. Abby had never heard such a racket in her life, but the sky people seemed excited, with many of them rushing off toward the sound. 

"They've been working on it all day," Marcus said. "Rigging up a solar panel and battery to the stereo equipment. They're quite resourceful, those kids."

"Quite."

When Abby finished her food, Marcus turned to her and tipped his head toward the music. With a shrug, she stood, and together they left the now nearly-empty cantina. Out in the open space in front of the main entrance to the space station, there was a dance going on. Abby stood with Marcus off to the side with the other observers, unable to keep a smile off her face. She was no stranger to music and dancing, but theirs was different, and the sky people seemed to take much more joy in it. There was something incredibly innocent about them and the way they frolicked through their new world. During the walk back from the creek earlier, she'd seen Marcus become momentarily transfixed by a cluster of falling leaves on a sudden breeze, his eyes following them as they'd danced toward the ground. She'd never taken much notice of such things.

"Are you going to dance, sir?" a man asked, edging up to Marcus. 

"Not a chance, Sinclair," Marcus replied, arms crossed. Abby recognized when he was playing the role of leader. His posture turned stiff, his eyes less expressive.

"Come on, Chancellor!" That was a boy nearby, one with cat's eyes and a smirk. "Dance with her! Maybe if you got laid once in awhile, you wouldn't mass murder your own people!"

Silence fell amongst those who had heard, and everything turned serious.

"Hey, shut your mouth, Murphy," Sinclair said. "Show your chancellor respect."

Murphy just smirked and turned away. Whatever effect the boy had wanted, he had gotten.

"Thank you, Sinclair," Marcus said, his voice hollow. "Put him on latrine duty for tomorrow."

Then Marcus turned and walked away.

Abby hesitated only a moment before going after him. She found him at the back of the station, sitting on a hulk of metal and staring thoughtfully into the forest. The music was faint back here, lending the atmosphere an ethereal quality.

"Is that the right thing to do?" Marcus asked, when Abby sat down beside him. "Punishing him for speaking against his leader? It isn't as if they have another choice. The rest of the council is dead."

She'd already figured out that he was not well liked by his people. Most of them were respectful, but the wary and sometimes angry glances hadn't escaped her notice, either. "Tell me," she said to him now.

And so he did. His voice was almost robotic when he began, but by the end, emotion had crept in, and she could see how much his actions had affected him. His methods had been dishonest, certainly, but his intention was understandable. Her people, too, had made terrible sacrifices in order to save others, and she understood, probably more than his people ever would. 

"You're no longer that man, though," Abby said. "Even I can see that."

He'd been refusing to meet her eyes, but he finally did, and she could see hope there, mixed with the shame. 

"Two hundred and nine people," he said, looking away and down at his hands, as if they were covered in blood. "I thought if you knew, you'd hate me like all the others, and with good reason. I even hate myself. I knew the truth would come out sooner or later, but just for a little while... I wanted to be Marcus to you, not Kane. I wanted to be the good man, the one who bent the rules when necessary rather than the one who rigidly followed them to everyone else's detriment."

He laid his hands flat on his thighs, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to reach out and take hold of the one closest to her. He seemed surprised when she did, his glance moving to their clasped hands and then to her, but his eyes told her that he liked the touch.

The music played, faint in the background, the words to the song indiscernible. There was a slow beat thrumming. Marcus stood suddenly, pulling her up by the hand and then pulling her into his arms. Her people didn't dance like this, with one of her hands held by his and his other hand resting at her waist. She liked it, though.

"I'm no good at this," he said, as they rocked back and forth.

"You seem to be doing fine." She leaned her head on his shoulder, liked the way that it seemed to fit perfectly there.

"No, I mean I'm no good at... whatever this is."

She swallowed. "Me neither. I'm afraid."

"Terrified," he agreed, and they shared a chuckle.

She lifted her head so that she could look at him, and their eyes met in the darkness. Their bodies stilled. As he reached down and touched her cheek, she held his gaze, heart pounding, promising herself that she wouldn't pull away this time, wouldn't run scared-

She was tense when he kissed her, but his touch was light. Letting out a shuddering breath, she tentatively kissed him back, ever so gently like a butterfly alighting on a leaf. She could feel passion thrumming beneath the surface though, both his and hers, and she wanted to unleash it, to rake her hands through his hair and lose herself in every touch.

She didn't, though, and after a moment he pulled away.

"Okay?" he asked, the word quiet.

She nodded. They weren't dancing anymore, but he kept hold of her hand, tugging her back to where they'd been sitting, and then pulling her onto his lap after he sat down. She thought he was going to kiss her again, but instead he linked his arms around her and tipped his head back to look at the stars. The night air was cold, and his arms felt warm, nice, around her. 

"Do they look different from down here?" she asked, following his gaze to the sky.

"Not really."

He began to talk about them, about the cold, metal ship where he'd been born and the windows where he'd look out toward the stars and the earth. Comprehending what the earth looked like from above was difficult, but she imagined it like some kind of precious stone, swirling with greens and blues and whites. She thought about looking up at his moving star in the sky, and it was on the tip of her tongue to wonder aloud whether he'd been looking down at the same time she'd been looking up. She didn't want him to think she was foolish, though, so she stayed silent.

After awhile, she began to watch his face when he spoke, watched the expressions of wistfulness and sadness and happiness cross over it, watched the way his lips moved when he spoke. He stopped in mid-sentence when he finally caught her staring, and before he could say anything about it, she reached out and turned his head toward her with one hand on his face, and pressed her lips to his. 

He tried to keep the kiss gentle and sweet as before, but she was no longer interested in keeping their touches safe. Something had broken free inside, somewhere between the last kiss and the stars, and she wanted to taste the passion she'd felt before, wanted just a sip of it, a test of the waters. Even when she turned his gentle kisses to open mouths and heat, and even when she tangled a hand in his hair and pressed closer to him, she still sensed him holding back.

She broke away, shifting on his lap to straddle him, the action putting pressure on the wound in her thigh, but she was far past caring. He began to kiss her with more vigour, hard, hot kisses that sent fluttering through her insides. She barely knew this man, this Marcus Kane of the sky people, and yet it felt like she'd known him a hundred years. It both terrified her and exhilarated her, and she wanted to run from him and climb inside him all at once.

She was rolling her hips, grinding against the hard bulge she felt through his pants and setting herself on fire in the process. His hand, splayed warm against the skin at her back, gave pressure as she moved, silently telling her which motion gave the most pleasure. There was pain in her thigh where her stitches were, but she was so far gone that she barely felt it, intoxicated with him and the way she fit so well against him.

"Stop, stop," he said suddenly, breathlessly, his hands moving to her hips, stilling her. "Someone's coming."

That someone was Jackson, looking horribly awkward when he came around the corner and saw them. He was carrying a syringe, and stopped in his tracks when he saw their entanglement. Abby briefly thought about getting off of Marcus and pretending that they hadn't just been caught all but having sex with their clothes on, but the damage was already done, and at the moment, she was the only thing hiding Marcus's arousal. Nobody needed to see their leader like that.

"You need your, uh, evening injection," Jackson said, clearing his throat several times. "I, uh –maybe you can find me, uh, after?"

"Just get over here and give her the antibiotics," Marcus said, in his chancellor voice. He closed his eyes briefly and looked like he was praying for patience or mercy or both.

"Yes, Chancellor," Jackson said, and scuttled over.

Abby smiled at Marcus as she shrugged a shoulder from her jacket and pulled the collar of her shirt down. Marcus looked away as Jackson injected the antibiotics into her upper arm, and then let out a heavy sigh and pressed his forehead to her other shoulder when the doctor all but ran off.

Marcus's grip on her had loosened, and he made no move to pick up where they'd left off. Abby tugged her collar and jacket back up and began to realize just how weary she felt. Her body was not in any state to fully engage in the kind of shenanigans that she wanted to, and besides that-

"There was only Clarke," she said, and he lifted his head to look at her. "There were never any other children. It happens sometimes, but there was no way of knowing if it was him or me, and if you and I... I don't know if..."

Comprehension dawned on his face with the tiniest of smiles. "Ah. We don't have to worry about that. We have implants. It's reversible, but so long as it's in there... there won't be any children, Abby."

Most of the time, her people had many children, because war and circumstance made living dangerous. She'd seen families have a sole child and then lose that child, had seen the heartbreak that it brought. It had always been in the back of her mind, losing Clarke, knowing that there would be nobody else to carry on her line. That the sky people actively prevented themselves from having children was a different concept, heartbreaking in a way.

"Do you have any children?" she asked.

He shook his head. "There was never anyone. I mean, there were women, of course, but never... it just never happened. You could only have one child per couple on the Ark because of the resource scarcity, and after while, it just seemed better not to have one, in a way."

She asked him to tell her about it, then shifted so that she could lean her head on his shoulder again. Linking his arms loosely around her, he began to talk quietly about the things they had and didn't have, and all the terrible things they'd had to do because of it. She fell asleep to the quiet drone of his voice, her body still craving rest after her sickness, safe and warm with his strong arms around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have kissing. I repeat, we finally have kissing! 
> 
> Also, I've just been waiting for an opportunity to slip some Abby and Marcus dancing into a fic somewhere.


	13. Chapter 13

Abby woke the next morning in Marcus's bed, her thigh burning.

It was a strange, barren room, and it took a moment to figure out exactly where she was and why there was a rumpled blanket and pillow on the floor. She recognized his scent on the sheets that were tucked over her, but didn't remember being carried to his bed. Why hadn't he taken her to Clarke's tent?

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she found her boots neatly lined up there. He'd taken those off but left the rest of her clothes on, which was just as well, because she'd have gutted him in the morning otherwise, if she had her sword and knife, which she didn't. She made a mental note to ask Clarke whether they'd been left behind in Tondc.

The door opened and a dark head poked in. When Marcus saw that she was awake, he brightened and then stepped inside. His cheeks were flushed like he'd been working, so it must be past morning.

"Why am I sleeping in your bed?" she asked.

"I wasn't sure where you were sleeping," he replied. "And I liked the way you looked there."

He said the last bit with a little sort of smirk, which she returned with a smile.

"You'd better get down to medical," he said. "After last night, Jackson isn't about to come looking for you again."

"Fair enough," she replied, easing her way to her feet, trying not to wince at the pain in her leg. Marcus waited by the door while she put her boots on, holding it open for her when she stepped out. On a whim, she turned around and drew his lips down to hers, giving him a kiss that she hoped conveyed that she wanted to pick up where they'd left off the night before. He returned the kiss, but he was careful about it, holding back again.

"I'm afraid I had a lecture from Jackson," he said, pulling the door shut and leading her down the hallway.

She thought that was a bit hilarious. "What, he's afraid you'll break me?"

"Something like that." He looked amused at her incredulity. "He told me I should know better, because he'd warned me about breaking my artery open again the other week."

She'd forgotten all about his injury, and suddenly felt guilty. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. The tissue's a bit tender, but it's healed."

The light from outside was blinding when they stepped out, and she shielded her eyes while waiting for them to adjust. When they did, a glance at the cloudy sky told her that they were over halfway to noon, and she'd slept too long. She felt rested, though.

"Lincoln and Octavia and their team are coming back with a load of supplies from the mountain today," Marcus said. "I'm heading out to meet them with a few others."

"I'll see you later, then." He faced her, eyes dipping to her lips like he was contemplating kissing her right there in the open in front of his people. Instead he reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and with a nod was gone. She watched him move across the camp, grabbing a gun from one of the guards and then heading out the gate.

Jackson was examining a child's scraped knee when she entered the medical tent, so she waited off to the side while he finished and then sent the little girl on her way. He didn't acknowledge her right away, turning around and busying himself with something and then finally turning around with a syringe.

"How many more days of this?" she asked, as he injected the medicine into her arm.

"One," was his reply. "I need to see the wound as well."

That involved taking her pants down but he gave her a small blanket to cover herself with. She'd done her best not to get the bandage wet or dirty while bathing the day before, and it still looked fairly clean. Jackson seemed to think so as well, looking pleased until he peeled it back and found that she'd popped one of her stitches. That, at least, explained why it hurt so much. With a grim set to his mouth, he moved off, coming back with a thread and needle. After plucking out the old stitch, he put in a fresh one, not bothering to warn her that it would hurt. She'd been through worse pain, but she closed her eyes against it nonetheless, not opening them again until he was putting a fresh bandage on.

"You're going to have to take it easy," he told her, eyes darting up to meet hers. "No more activities that will break your stitching until it's properly healed, understood? At least a few days."

She wanted to protest that she hadn't really been doing any _activities_ , but given how he'd found her and Marcus the night before, he probably wouldn't have believed her, so she settled for a nod instead. He turned his back while she dressed, and when she was on her feet and ready to go, she inquired about whether he needed any help.

"I can't go back to my own people, so I'd like to make myself useful," she added. "I'd love to learn some of the things you do."

"Likewise," he replied thoughtfully. "Our medicine supply won't last forever, even with the extras from Mount Weather."

After a brief discussion, she decided to head out to collect what medicinal plants she could find, and later on they'd sit down together and exchange information. Grabbing some food from the cantina and a knife from Clarke's tent, Abby went to the gate to argue with the guards there. As expected, they didn't want to let her out.

"Your rules only apply to your people," she told them.

"Chancellor's orders," one of the guards said. "Nobody leaves without a guard unit and permission."

"She _is_ the guard unit," came an assertive voice from behind Abby, and a dark-haired young woman came to a stop beside her. "My guard unit. Or do you think a grounder warrior isn't enough protection?"

The guards looked sceptical. "Yeah? And who gave you permission, Reyes?"

"Sinclair," the girl replied, without missing a beat. She was clearly someone who was used to getting her own way. "You want me to go drag him away from the heating systems, or are you going to let us through?"

After a pause, the guards called for the gate to be opened, and Abby and the girl stepped through.

"Raven Reyes," the girl said, once they were out of hearing distance. "Thanks."

"I'm Abby," Abby replied, "and I'm not a warrior."

"I know," Raven replied cheerfully. "I just needed to get out. Where are you off to?"

"Collecting plants. Care to join me?"

"Would love to."

They headed north along the treeline, Abby keeping an eye on the ground for anything useful.

"You're Clarke's mom, right?" Raven said, as they walked. "She's pretty badass."

"She is," Abby agreed. "She's out hunting again, I expect."

"Yep. My boyfriend was out with her yesterday. Says she's ruthless."

"Sounds about right. Which one is your boyfriend?"

"Finn." Raven made a face. "He's kind of being a dick right now. I danced with one of my buddies from engineering last night, and all of a sudden Finn thinks I want to screw him. I mean, Wick and I banter. That's just what we do. And it isn't like I don't see Finn checking out other girls. We've known each other forever, but sometimes I think it's just too comfortable, you know?"

"Well," Abby said, bending to examine a plant that looked like wild mint, "there's nothing wrong with comfort, but you feel different connections with different people. Some you just click with."

"Yeah," Raven said thoughtfully. "I get that. You can see it, with some people. Sinclair and his wife. You and Kane, too."

Abby plucked a sprig of mint, then straightened up and tipped her head toward the forest. As they entered the trees, she automatically began scanning her surroundings, not willing to be caught by Emerson a second time. She paused to pluck a bit of moss from the ground, tucking both it and the sprig of mint into her pocket and then drawing out her knife.

"I always thought Kane was kind of a dick," Raven continued, her eyes moving about the forest as well. "Things are different on Earth, though. People are different. Finn. Kane."

Abby opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, she saw the barest flicker of movement of a bush straight ahead. Reaching out to halt Raven, Abby was about to creep forward to investigate when a young girl dropped out of the tree above them and landed with weapons drawn in front of Abby and Raven. Raven pulled a gun from somewhere, pointing it at the girl. Abby knew her. She was Anya's second.

"Tris," Abby said, heart still hammering in her chest. "Well done."

"Thank you," Tris replied. She didn't lower her weapons, though. Which meant-

"So you're alive." It was Anya who had spoken. She stepped from behind the bush ahead, with two other warriors appearing from behind trees and joining her as she approached Abby and Raven. Abby wasn't sure where she stood with her people –she hadn't left of her own accord, after all, but she had stayed, and her daughter was banished. They weren't above killing her, she knew, and the moment of truth had arrived. Would they truly make her and the sky people the enemy? She kept her weapon at the ready until Anya barked an order at Tris to stand down.

Raven was eyeing the group with suspicion, gun still pointed in their direction. "Put your gun away, Raven," Abby said quietly.

Raven lowered the weapon, but kept it in hand. Anya looked at Abby and nodded toward Raven. "Is she trustworthy?"

"Yes," Abby replied. "What are you doing so close to Camp Jaha?"

"Looking for the one who attacked you," Anya replied. "Emerson. Indra wants him found."

"Indra? Or Lexa?"

"The commander has gone back to Polis. But yes. The last mountain man will suffer the pain of a thousand deaths."

"That's not going to stop the alliance breaking," Abby said.

"No," Anya replied, "but it will get us through the winter without war. Unless, of course, the sky people decide to make war."

"Screw you," Raven piped up angrily. "You're the ones who made us the enemy."

"The sky people aren't interested in making war with anyone," Abby said. "I told them about you making them the scapegoat."

"Our people come first," was Anya's reply. "The alliance needs an enemy."

"And then what? Say you get through to spring without the alliance breaking. Then what? The alliance breaks and you'll need an ally. The sky people are powerful. They wiped out the mountain men. And our people betrayed them and then lied to make them the enemy. They'll never take you on as an ally again."

Anya surveyed her coolly, and then shrugged. "The commander knows what she's doing. It is good to see you alive, Abby. Let's move out."

Abby watched them go, both torn and furious. They were her people, and she understood their position, but she didn't like it. The sky people were different, and would never trust her people again. She was sure that there would come a time when her people needed the sky people, though, and Lexa's continuing alienation of them would prevent peace from ever being possible.

"I don't agree with my commander's decisions," Abby told Raven, as they turned and started back toward camp.

"I see that," Raven replied. "Is she really saving her people? Or is she saving herself?"

"Both. Two things hold the alliance together: Lexa and an enemy. Your people have briefly replaced the enemy, but that won't last, and Lexa wrote her own death sentence when she prevented our people from having blood."

"And that is why I'm not into politics," Raven said dryly. Abby couldn't help but smile at that.

They headed back to camp, Abby plucking a plant here and there as they walked. It was getting late in the year for finding useful material, but at least she had something to show Jackson to exchange for his knowledge. She wished for her vials and medicines that she'd left behind in Tondc. She hoped Nyko was making good use of them, or at least keeping them for her. Back at the camp, there was activity going on in the yard, and Abby spotted Marcus's dark head amongst the movement. They were back sooner than expected, and as Marcus's head turned and his eyes found her, she knew she was in trouble.

Waving goodbye to Raven, Abby headed off to the medical tent with her findings, determined that Marcus had no right to be angry with her for going outside the camp. She was not his people.

"I didn't find much," she told Jackson, when she entered the tent. Moving to an empty table she pulled her findings from her pocket and lined them up, while he came over to see. "The moss isn't medicinal, but it's good for staunching wounds-"

"Abby, may I speak to you for a moment?"

Straightening her shoulders, Abby turned to regard Marcus in the doorway. With a nod at Jackson, Abby followed Marcus out the door and across the yard. He led her deep into the station, to the room where he'd kept her prisoner that first time she'd come looking for Clarke. Shutting the door behind him, he crossed his arms and looked at her.

"You're not to leave the camp," he said.

"I'm not your people," she shot back. "I'm not subject to your rules."

"Do you think people haven't noticed what's going on between us?" he asked. "If you don't follow the rules, it undermines my authority. Nobody will think they have to follow them."

"Are you going to lock me in here again, then?" she asked coolly, crossing her arms. She didn't like being ordered around by him like some errant child. A warrior she was not, but she could disarm him in seconds if she so wished, whether it be with her knife or her lips. He could not keep her here.

He stepped towards her. "It's dangerous out there, even for you."

She let out a laugh. "You really think my people will kill me?"

"Your people are constantly killing."

"Yes, and we take killing very seriously," she replied. "You think we're the savages? We never killed people for stealing food. We never stole babies from their mothers' wombs."

The words had their intended effect. He recoiled as if she'd slapped him.

"So that's what you really think of me," he said. His voice was flat. Emotionless. Carefully emotionless. Her daggered words had struck him in the heart, just where she'd intended.

"Your people killed the entirety of the mountain men to save a handful of criminals. What am I supposed to think?"

"Do you even know what they did?" Marcus asked. "They were killing those kids. Drilling into their bones and draining them and then throwing them away."

She stepped closer to him. "They've been doing it to us for fifty years," she told him. "Why is your pain greater than ours?"

Her words silenced him. He stared at her, dark eyes searching hers, the air between them turning suddenly electric. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she stepped towards him, stopping in front of him and laying a hand flat on his chest. His heartbeat thrummed beneath her fingers.

"Pain is not a competition," she said. "My people have grown up with terrible stories of the days when the world was burned to ashes. We kill because our ancestors raised us to never be complicit and unarmed again. To survive. My clan won't harm me because right now, they're trying to survive."

His eyes had moved to her hand on his chest, but they flicked back up to hers now. Slowly, his hand came up to rest upon hers, to wrap his fingers gently around hers. His heartbeat slowed beneath her palm and she held his gaze.

"Okay," he said. The word came out hushed. "You can leave the camp. Stay within sight of it. Don't take any of my people with you."

It was a fair enough compromise, allowing both her freedom and his rules.

"Fine," she said. Their eyes were still locked. "Should I reward you for giving me my freedom?"

A corner of his mouth quirked up. "No."

But she kissed him anyway, rising to her tiptoes as she pressed her lips to his, pushing her breasts against his chest as his hand finally abandoned hers and settled on her hip instead. She could feel him smiling as he returned the kiss, and found herself smiling in return. Noting his control, she amused herself with the knowledge that she could make a repeat of the night before and turn him into a mess of arousal and sweat, but held back, remembering her stitches and the doctor's words. She felt his control slipping, though, as his kisses turned harder and his fingers dug into her hips, pulling her flush against him.

"We need to stop," she said, as his mouth trailed form hers to her jawline, and down her neck. "Doctor's orders."

"Do we?" His breath tickled her neck and she shivered.

"I popped one of my stitches last night."

Another breath tickled her neck, this one accompanied by a laugh, and when he pulled back to look at her, she thought he looked a little too pleased with himself on top of his amusement. Reaching out, she traced a finger along one of the laugh lines that had appeared near his eyes, noting how his smile erased the lines of worry and seriousness, making him look boyish and lighthearted. He grabbed hold of her hand and kissed the back of it, eyes searching hers, face slowly turning serious again as he did.

"Where does your allegiance lie, Abby?" he asked. "You fight me for your freedom but stay in my camp. You spin between anger at your people and defence of them."

"My allegiance is with my daughter," she replied, ignoring that voice in the back of her mind that shouted that she was also loyal to a stranger who had fallen into her life from the sky. She wasn't ready to admit it to herself or to him yet, because in her mind there was no reason for it. _You_ , the voice in her mind whispered anyway, knowing that it was what he wanted to hear even if she would not speak it. _It lies with you._


	14. Chapter 14

Abby was driving Marcus crazy, in both a good way and a bad way.

He was fully convinced that if she wasn't so determined to follow Jackson's orders and refrain from physical activities that he could have easily prevented her from running his camp. As it was, they'd had a conversation about winter one evening and the next morning he'd gotten up to find her instructing a group of his guards on how to build shovels for moving snow, and she was now on her second day of sending groups of his people out to collect firewood.

Despite him having told her not to take his people out of camp, of course. She'd countered that she wasn't taking his people out of camp, she was _sending_ them out of camp. Evidently she did not think Sinclair's heating system was going to cut it for the winter, and thought they needed a stockpile of firewood. Which he wouldn't have had a problem with if she hadn't just gone out and started ordering people around.

Now here his people were, rolling their eyes at him behind his back.

"Abby!" he called. She was by the gate now, talking to a small group of people. She glanced at him at his call, then dismissed the group and hurried over, carrying a saw.

"What are you doing now?" he asked.

"Cutting up some deadfall," she replied. "I'd take down trees, but the wood won't dry in time to be of any use."

"Where did you get that saw?"

"Lincoln brought it back from Mount Weather."

Irritation crept up Marcus's back. "Their team is supposed to be focusing on food and medical supplies."

"And now they're focusing on tools as well. Octavia found a stockpile near their food production facility."

Taking hold of her arm, Marcus pulled her toward the station. She went along with him, seeming amused, even nodding an acknowledgement to a group of delinquents who were hanging out by the door.

"Hey Chancellor, your pet grounders are doing a better job of running the camp than you are!"

"Shut it, Murphy," Marcus snapped, pulling Abby inside.

If half the camp wasn't already whispering and giggling about them, he would have taken her somewhere private, but as it was, there was no point. The hallway was empty, but he figured neither of them would instigate another makeout session here.

She crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

"Space is cold," Marcus said, and the moment the words left his lips he knew it was a stupid thing to say. Space was cold, but it wasn't wet. There was no wind on the Ark, no blowing snow. When Abby said winter would be cold, he knew what she really meant was that him and his people were wholly unprepared for it. They'd never experienced the bone-chilling cold of a winter storm, nor the exhaustion of a trudge through heavy snow. It sounded exciting and terrible all at once.

She just looked amused. "Doesn't matter. You're not prepared."

He tried again. "Abby, these are my people. I don't want them going into the forest, even with guards. We had a deal."

"My people aren't going to attack them unless they go into our territory."

She sounded so certain about it, but he wasn't so sure. "You don't know that. They made us the enemy."

"When I was out with Raven, we ran into a group looking for Emerson," Abby said.

"You're telling me this now?" Annoyance crept up his spine with real danger of turning to fury. "That was days ago! And you send my people out-"

"They're not going to harm your people this close to camp!" Abby snapped. "They have other things to worry about."

He silently scrutinized her face, searching for an explanation for her sudden interest in helping his people to prepare for winter. She wasn't one to be intimidated, but he stepped closer to her anyway, hoping to disarm her. "Why are you really doing this?"

He could almost see her hackles rising. "Are you accusing me of deliberately trying to get your people killed?"

"No, but I think you're up to something," he replied.

She stared at him for a long moment, and he could see the gears turning in her mind. "Fine. I don't want your people to see me as a threat."

All at once, everything made sense. Whether she really thought that he'd go to war against her people or if it were simply just in case a conflict arose, she wanted the sky people to know that not all grounders were bad. He wasn't sure why such a thing disappointed him, because it was logical, after all. Still, a sinking feeling moved through him, settling with a dull ache in his gut and on his shoulders, because in the end, he knew what her actions really meant.

Of course she was going to leave eventually. If she wouldn't stay for her daughter, then she certainly wouldn't stay for him. Her loyalties were clear.

And he would never ask her to stay. Not for him.

"Just... be careful," was all her could muster up, and he turned and walked away. He could feel her frown as he left, and he moved through the station at a fast pace lest she try and follow him. Reaching the small room he'd commandeered for his own, he shut himself inside and laid down on the bed and ran through all the reasons why he should distance himself from Abby.

They were good reasons, and by the time he emerged, his mind was set and he managed to successfully avoid her for the remainder of the day.

So of course she crawled into his bed in the middle of the night.

He woke with a start when she sat on the edge of the bed and touched his shoulder, jerking upright and nearly sending her to the floor in the process. Only able to make out her profile in the dark, he found himself staring in the general vicinity of her face, heart thumping, and not just from being startled. His mind jumped straight to sex despite him being determined that it couldn't happen.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled.

Taking off her shoes, evidently. He heard one and then the other fall to the floor. "Clarke was snoring."

"You couldn't find anywhere else to sleep?"

"No. And I _am_ just here to sleep."

Of course. Her leg was still full of stitches, and it was better for his heart that they didn't get involved anyway. Dream woman or no dream woman, nothing good could come of it.

The bed was large enough for two, so he moved back to the wall to allow her room. He'd had to give back the spare blanket that he'd borrowed the last time she'd slept in his bed, so it was just the one between them. Like him, she left a shirt on but stripped off her pants, and as she slid under the covers, he tried not to think about what she looked like in her underwear.

She fell asleep almost immediately, but he lay awake silently cursing himself and her, and finally settling on logic. Logic was cold and comforting. It told him that they were from two different worlds and had a potential war between them, and it also told him that she had every intention of going back to her people. On a smaller scale, logic said that Doctor Jackson had given his orders for a reason. Abby was still recovering from her infection, and if her stitches broke again Marcus would hate himself for unnecessarily using thread that despite their new stockpile from Mount Weather, wouldn't last forever.

An hour later, he'd successfully talked himself out of touching her, but in the morning he woke with her snuggled against him. His first thought was that he desperately didn't want to fall in love with her.

His second thought was that it was already too late.

When she tipped her head up from where it was comfortably tucked under his chin and kissed him, he knew he was well and truly screwed. Still, he held back as he kissed her, and this time she followed along, keeping things light and gentle, though the tenderness of it went straight to his heart.

"How's the wound?" he asked, after awhile.

In reply, she grabbed his hand and placed it over the bandage. He closed his eyes and counted to ten and tried to remember all reasons that he wasn't going to touch her. Except he _was_ touching her, and already it was too much.

"Five more days," she said. "It's healing nicely."

With great effort, he withdrew his hand. "I'm glad."

"You know it's unnecessary," she said. "We could be careful."

He didn't want to take any chances, though. Resources, he reminded himself. That, and he didn't want to be careful.

And he didn't want to fall in love with her.

Did he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Marcus, de Nile is not just a river in Egypt! Hehe
> 
> So it's looking like this thing will be 17 chapters total. Just have to finish up the last two but the ending is written. Can't wait for you all to read it!


	15. Chapter 15

Abby had the idea that the moment the stitches came out of her leg, Marcus would pounce on her, but instead he'd vacated his room, leaving it to her, and had spent several days avoiding her. At first she was baffled by this behaviour, but quickly became annoyed.

The air had turned colder lately, and most of the people had moved to sleep inside the station, along walls and crushed into rooms. Abby had no idea where Marcus was sleeping. She knew he was angry about her stepping in to help them prepare for winter. She'd had every intention of keeping her word to not take his people out of camp until she'd heard about their plans for it. It wasn't that they were unprepared, it was just that they needed to be more prepared, and nobody was going to do anything about it unless she set an example. So she did.

It wasn't until she'd come back with the tenth load of firewood that it had occurred to her that she could use her newfound influence to her advantage. Maybe she couldn't stop her own people from using the sky people as scapegoats, but she could make the sky people like her. If they trusted her, then Abby would be in a position of potential influence on both sides. Maybe it wouldn't prevent a war, but it could create trust.

So she started giving orders to the sky people who wanted to help her, and soon found more joining in, much to Marcus's annoyance. It was worth it, though.

All the while, she thought about her friends back in Tondc who were in exactly the same position as the sky people, perhaps worse off even. She wondered why she was helping the sky people at all, especially now that she knew her people didn't want her dead. Surely with Lexa gone back to Polis, Abby could go home and have few problems sneaking off to see her daughter.

In theory it was probably what she should have done.

In reality, she felt as if an invisible rope had tied her to this new clan, and Marcus Kane held the ends.

It was clear now that he had every intention of continuing to avoid her, and whatever the reason for it, her annoyance was rapidly turning to determination to make it stop. So that afternoon she marched over to where he was barking orders at the new guard trainees and shamelessly interrupted him.

"May I have a word?" she asked. Just as she'd expected, eyebrows went up and sniggers were heard. The camp hadn't gotten over their leader being lovesick yet, and she used it to her advantage now, because she knew he'd want to downplay his attachment in front of the trainees.

"I'm busy," he replied, eyes darting to her and then narrowing at the ones who were sniggering. "Do you have something to say, Harper?"

"No, sir," the girl replied with a smirk.

Abby used his discomfort to her advantage, laying a hand on his arm and lowering her voice just a little, but not enough so that the others didn't hear. "It's about last night."

The look Marcus gave her in return said that he knew exactly what she was about, and he didn't like it one bit. Grabbing her arm, he hauled her away, his trainees breaking into laughter and shouting something about _Chancel-lover Kane_.

Behind a pile of salvaged metal, Marcus let go of her arm and faced her. "Abby-"

"Come for a walk with me," she said, cutting off his lecture before he could begin.

"I'm busy."

"No you're not," she replied. "Meet me at the gate in ten minutes."

Without giving him time to protest, she walked away, and exactly eleven minutes later, he met her at the gate, gun slung over his shoulder. Pleased that her manipulations had worked, she led him into the forest. He was silent until they entered the trees.

"Are you going to tell me what this is about?" he asked.

"Are you going to tell me why you're avoiding me?" she countered.

There was a small pause. "No."

"Then no."

Their only conversation was idle chatter until they passed the dropship, and then he went silent again. She figured by then that he knew where she was leading him, and wondered if his silence was good or bad this time. The man was too closed with his thoughts, too content to suffer alone in his mind. If everything went to plan, that would never happen again.

When they reached the hunting shelter, nervousness briefly fluttered through her insides, but she shut it away, focusing on determination instead. He followed her in with caution, still silent as she lit the candle and went to work building a fire. The room was cold, colder than outside. It wouldn't be long until her people put it to use again.

When the fire was built, she rubbed her hands together and turned around. He was still standing by the door, watching her. His eyes moved to the flames.

"You should build fireplaces, too," she said. "You can't rely on your technology."

His eyes shifted back to her. "Is that why I'm here?"

"No."

She kept space between them, squatting down in front of the fire and sticking out her hands to warm them on the weak flames. Finally he moved, crossing the room to set his gun down on the table, then facing her.

"I don't care why you're avoiding me," she said, keeping her tone conversational. "Well, I do, actually, but what I mean is that I have to remind myself that we barely know each other. It's the connection I feel to you that makes everything seem deeper."

"It wasn't my intention to hurt you," he said. "I've been... struggling with some things."

She understood that those words were all she was going to get so far as his reasons went. That was fine.

"Don't avoid me anymore," she said quietly.

"Okay."

She let out a breath. "I picked this place because I knew it was safe," she said. She kept her gaze on the crumbling concrete floor, afraid to look at him. "My husband found it and used it. I came here with him. It was a way to resist the connection I felt to you. I knew I'd never touch you in this room."

"Why resist?" he asked softly.

Her heart was pounding, but the words came anyway, pouring from her like a waterfall. "Because I'm afraid. We have a saying in our culture, when two people form a bond that goes deeper than love. _Seimtombom_. It's rare." She forced herself to lift her chin and meet his eyes. "I used to look up at the sky at night and watch that moving star. I watched it when I was young and fanciful and wished desperately for love, and I watched it after I shared a bed with my husband for the first time, and I watched it when my daughter grew in my belly. It's as if the whole time, I knew you were up there."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but shut it again. Pressing onward, she rose to her feet and went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He interrupted her just inches from a kiss.

"You said you'd never touch me in this room," he said, confusion in his voice.

"I was wrong," she replied. "I would touch you anywhere."

"I wanted you from the moment I saw you," he breathed, his lips crashing down upon hers.

Neither held back this time, lips and bodies colliding, him pressing her back to the wall. Their jackets and her shirt came off, leaving him in a t-shirt and her in her thin white undershirt with goosebumps rising on her arms, either from the cold or his touch. Grasping her hips, he lifted her up, bringing them closer with her legs around him and his body pinning her to the wall. His lips moved to her neck, slowly leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses that made her tip her head back and sigh. A hand cupped one of her breasts, thumb grazing over her nipple through the thin fabric, and her sighs turned to moans. Aching for more, she arched into his touch.

"Off," he murmured, and then her undershirt was gone and his hands were burning her skin with their touch.

Her skin seemed extra sensitive, and whether it was because it had been so long since she'd been touched like this or because it was him, every point of contact between their bodies felt like fire. She found herself writhing against him, pressing against the hardness that was nestled against the heat of her, suddenly desperate to have more contact, skin on skin and him inside her. Breaking his ministrations with a gasp, he grabbed her hands from where they were scratching down his arm and tangling in his hair and pinned them above her head, pressing flat against her as he claimed her lips again.

This time when he kissed her it was leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world for it, but she could feel the tremble in him as the inferno took him, too. His hands abruptly let go of her wrists, settling on her waist instead.

"Hold onto me," he said hoarsely.

She did, and with legs firmly wrapped around him and arms linked around his neck, he carried to the bed in the corner, setting her down on the edge. Quickly disposing of the rest of their clothes, they came together again, her laying back on the bed, pulling him atop her, hands skimming down his shoulders and back. He propped himself up on an elbow and studied her, trailing his fingers down her arm lightly, grazing her skin.

"If you weren't so stubborn," she said, "we could have been doing this already."

"Hmm," was all he said. She knew he'd never admit to being stubborn.

He kissed her again, gently this time, hand trailing down her body, lingering on her breast, making her shiver as it slid down her side. Down between their bodies, he teased her with slow circles before slipping a finger inside her, then another, stroking, and then pulling out and finding her sensitive bud, coaxing whimpers from her. Everything was heat between them, skin on skin turning from silky to sweat. She found her hands wandering all over his body, trying to memorize the planes of it, reaching down to finally feel him, hard and hot in her hand. He moaned as she stroked him slowly, lightly, smiling against his lips as his breathing quickened. He broke their kiss with a gasp. The firelight flickered and danced across his back.

Hand withdrawing, he shifted, darkened eyes on hers as she guided him to her entrance. He shuddered and closed his eyes as her body claimed him, and she reached up to touch his face, drawing his eyes open and his gaze to her. Seated inside her, he stopped, and she wondered if he felt the power she felt, their connection making them feel like one, lungs and hearts breathing and beating as one. She'd never felt like this with anyone, and it was overwhelming but she wasn't afraid. Nothing had ever felt so right.

"What is this?" he whispered.

_Love_ , she wanted to say, but he began to move, and she lost herself.

He made love to her slowly, every so often her name escaping his lips like there was something more to it, something else he wanted to say. Though she desperately wanted him to say it, the confession never came, and when they were both sated they lay in each other's arms, her hand above his heart, feeling its beat slow beneath her fingertips.

" _Seimtombom_ ," he murmured. "Soulmate. What was that other thing you said?"

"When?"

"Right after you said my name."

"Ah. _Jok_. That's _fuck_."

Chuckling, he kissed her cheek and then got up to put wood on the fire. After gathering their clothes and setting them on the table, he came back and pulled the single dusty blanket over them. Cold but content, she nestled close to him and closed her eyes.

As she drifted to sleep, his confession finally came, the one she knew she was only hearing because he thought she was already asleep.

"I dreamed of you for years," he whispered. "Even when I knew you didn't exist, you were there. I lost my faith a long time ago, but you... you brought it back."

She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

In the morning, she woke to a cold room, the fire having gone out sometime in the night. Only the parts of her that touched Marcus were warm, the rest of her turning to ice. Shivering, she burrowed closer to him, but when she tucked her legs up and her cold toes hit his legs, he woke with a start.

"It's so cold," he mumbled. "The fire-?"

"It's out," she replied.

He made an attempt at warming her by rubbing her back, but in the end there was no choice but to get up and dress. They shouldn't have spent the night, but it was nice having their little escape, and she hoped that it meant a turning point in their relationship. No more avoidance. She loved him and he loved her and they were _seimtombom_ , a rarity in a war-torn world.

She was still putting on her shoes when he grabbed his gun and went outside, disappearing from view up the steps.

"Abby!" he called, half a minute later. There was a tone to his voice that she didn't like, and she hurried to follow him, wishing again for a weapon better than Clarke's knife that she kept in her jacket.

"What is it?"

Her own sense of dread was in sharp contrast to the wonder that appeared on his face at the sight of the forest covered in white. Palms out, he stood staring, eyes following snowflakes as they fluttered to the ground and settled softly.

"So beautiful," he said, turning slowly in a circle. "It's so quiet."

The forest was peacefully silent, as it always was during snowfalls. She watched him wonder at it for a few minutes, watched as he tried to catch a flake on his tongue and then gathered a bit in his hand and crushed it. Then tasted it. He was like a child. The amazement on his face made her want to smile and never stop, but the snow... the snow filled her with worry for her people, who were undoubtedly scrambling in a ruined village. She found herself facing the direction of Tondc, wondering if they would last the winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:
> 
> My perusal of Trigedasleng dictionaries tells me that there's no word for soulmate, so I just combined the words for "same" and "heart" for the purposes of this story. I'm no linguist but I do my best.
> 
> Two, you didn't think I'd give them a love shack and not put it to use, did you? ;) Heheh


	16. Chapter 16

The night after they came back from the hunting shelter, Marcus moved back into the room that was originally his, and it became theirs. In the weeks that followed, the temperature fell and the snow continued to fall here and there, and they spent their days solving cold weather problems in the camp and their nights lovemaking in their warm bed.

The people of Camp Jaha had rapidly figured out how to make snowballs, and after several weeks, still hadn't tired of hurling them at each other despite only a quarter of them having proper gloves. The snow wreaked havoc on their winter survival plans, though, just as Abby had said it would. On snowy days, a team had to be formed to take turns clearing the solar panels mounted on the station's roof in order for the heating system to work. Marcus spent his days with Sinclair, discussing options on how to mount them differently while still maintaining efficiency, while Abby moved around camp doing various things, such as insulating holes in the station and gathering firewood and helping Jackson in medical.

It was one day in late December when Abby was called away from a hypothermia case by shouts from outside. Leaving Jackson to it, she hurried out, finding the guard on high alert, guns drawn, and people running for the station.

Abby was stunned to see Indra and several warriors at the gate.

"Stand down!" Marcus shouted, striding over with his gun.

Abby raced over, catching up to him as he reached the gate. "They come in peace," she told him. "Their weapons aren't drawn."

He nodded, then approached a stone-faced Indra. "To what do I owe this honour, Indra?"

"I've come to speak to _her_ ," Indra replied. Her eyes met Abby's.

Abby knew just how much pride Indra had swallowed in order to come knocking at the enemy's gate. It was also an illustration of just how bad things must be back in Tondc. A heavy weight settled in Abby's stomach, like she'd swallowed a rock, and she wondered which of her friends were amongst the starving and sick.

"Let her in," Abby said.

Marcus hesitated a fraction of a second, but in the end nodded to his guard. The gate opened, and after having Indra and her warriors leave their weapons with the guard, Marcus allowed them inside.

"What's she doing here?" It was Clarke who had spoken, approaching with Octavia at her side, Lincoln and Bellamy hanging back with weapons at the ready. So far as Abby knew, Clarke and her former mentor had left on good terms, but that didn't stop Clarke's resentment over Mount Weather from taking precedence.

"Get away from me, traitor!" Indra snapped.

" _Shof op_ , Indra. You know I'm not a traitor," Clarke replied. "Even when I was your second, you wanted me to put duty over what was right. Perhaps you should rethink that policy now that two of your seconds are living in the so-called enemy's camp."

Indra's eyes flicked to Octavia. "You're both weak."

"Enough," Marcus said. "Let's go inside the station."

Clarke, Octavia, and their men followed Marcus, Abby, and Indra's group inside to the council chamber. Once there, a spat broke out between Clarke and one of Indra's warriors, but they calmed down after Marcus threatened to throw them all out.

"Our people are starving and sick," Indra said. "We captured and burned the last mountain man on the day the first snow fell. The sickness started two weeks later. There is not enough food. You can't fight sickness with an empty belly."

"What about Nyko?" Abby asked.

"Nyko is one of the sick."

"So what do you need?" Marcus asked. "Food? Medicine?"

"You."

The word was directed at Abby, and Indra's eyes said that she wanted her healer, and a decline to go with her would leave Abby branded a traitor like her daughter and Lincoln. Did she want to leave? Was there enough here to make her stay? And what about her friends back in the village? If they were sick and needed her help, then she had a duty to help them. She couldn't just turn her back on her people, her friends.

"Mom," Clarke said. "You don't have to go."

"Clarke, those are your friends, too."

"You could get sick, too. What if they think you're a traitor? It isn't worth it-"

"Enough." Abby did everything in her power to avoid Marcus's gaze. "I'd like to speak to Indra alone, please."

After a few quick orders, the room cleared, leaving Abby alone with Indra. A study of the fierce woman showed that Indra hadn't been untouched by hunger and illness herself. There were dark circles under her eyes and hollows below her cheeks. Subtle, but there. Always so inscrutable, Indra's face showed hints of stress, which spoke volumes.

"So?" Indra asked. "Are you going to help your clan?"

"Of course," Abby replied. "But if I go with you, I want your word that I'll be able to return."

"Impossible. I cannot allow it."

"Fine. Then I'm staying here."

Indra's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"I'm learning a lot from Jackson, their healer," Abby continued, knowing that she'd almost won. "Things that can help us, but only if I'm allowed to continue."

"Our people will brand you a traitor if you visit the enemy," Indra said.

"Let me deal with them."

There was a long silence.

"Very well," Indra said finally. "Do as you like. Threats upon your life will be your problem. We depart immediately."

Abby nodded. Indra strode out, and Abby took a moment to let the impact of her decision settle upon her. It was the right thing to do. Certainly she had things here that held deep meaning, but her home and her people were where she belonged in the end. She'd known this day would come, hadn't she? She could still come and visit.

So why did it hurt so much?

As soon as she left the room, Clarke pounced on her again, trying to talk her out of it, but Abby's decision was already made. She silenced her daughter with a hug, and a kiss on the cheek, and walked out to join her people.

At the gate, Marcus grabbed her arm and hauled her to the side.

She tried not to think about the ache in her heart. And his. His face was a careful mask, the one he wore as leader around his people, the one she stripped away every night to reveal the man she loved. There were a hundred things she wanted to tell him, but it would have taken hours to explain that these were her friends, her clan, and she was their only hope. Marcus understood duty and loyalty. She searched his eyes now for understanding, silently pleaded with him for it.

_Ask me to stay_ , she silently screamed.

But he didn't. He only held out a hand towards her. Her eyes fell upon it, to the gun he was offering her.

"Take the gun, Abby," Marcus said.

She couldn't touch it, though, couldn't take it in her hands, because despite the mountain men being dead, the superstition remained. _Touch a gun and the mountain men will burn down your village._

"I can't," she said, forcing herself to look up and meet his eyes. "My people don't touch guns."

For a moment, the mask slipped from his face. She was breaking his heart.

"Are we really back to this?" he asked softly.

"I can't just turn my back on my people," she said, a note of pleading unwillingly entering her voice. "They're sick. Please understand."

"Of course I understand," he replied, but his words sounded forced, his voice robotic.

She wanted to reach out and touch him, to kiss him and tell him she'd come back, to wrap her arms around him and breathe in his scent one more time. She didn't trust herself not to let go, though, so she turned away, swallowing against the ache in her chest that signalled the shattering and dying of her heart. A few minutes later, she walked out the gate, and she didn't look back.


	17. Chapter 17

Marcus watched as Abby hugged her daughter, the two speaking quietly to each other before letting go. Without a backward glance, she walked out the gate with Indra and the warriors, and a part of him desperately wanted to run after her, to tell her he loved her and beg her not to leave, or to come back, and not to shut him out like she'd so quickly done.

God, anything. Anything but this.

But Marcus understood that her people had to come first. Survival came first. That was how life was on Earth. It was how it had been on the Ark, too. He'd done horrible, terrible things in the name of survival, and letting her go was no different.

So why did it hurt so much more than the rest?

Unable to watch her walk away, he ordered the gate shut and walked back to the station, ignoring the questions thrown his way. Halfway to his room he stopped, because her presence would still be there, and it would be too much to bear. So he turned around and walked back outside, heading for the pile of firewood that needed splitting, but her memories were all over that, too.

There was nowhere he could go to escape her, to escape the pain of her leaving.

A part of him couldn't believe that she could leave just like that, after everything they'd been through. Hadn't they meant more to each other? Were their confessions about soulmates and deep connections just nonsense after all? The other part of him said that it was no more than he deserved. She was hope for him, faith and salvation... none of which he deserved. Redemption was forever out of his reach, the blood on his hands something he could never forget.

He found himself at the back of the station, sitting at the place where they'd looked at the stars, where they'd kissed and danced and fallen for each other. A small voice in his mind told him to get up, to be the leader and to shove aside the ache in his life where she'd been torn away. Instead he sat, silently begging for numbness.

Clarke found him there ten minutes later, marching toward him with purpose. When she came to a stop in front of him, her eyes narrowed and a furrow appeared between her brows.

"Leave me alone," he said.

"Are you stupid?" she barked. "Ask her to stay!"

"If she won't stay for you, the why would she-"

Clarke slapped him, and then pointed a finger in his face. "Go after her!"

He was taken aback by the gall of the girl, slapping him in the face and ordering him around. While his mind struggled to find an appropriate way to reprimand her, his body was already getting up and walking away. Abby was gone.

Darkness was already falling, and his mind reeled with her absence. Stumbling into the station, he went to their room, sinking into the bed they shared and silently screaming for sleep, because she always came in his dreams when he needed her the most. Sleep never came, though, only tears he'd never admit to if anyone asked, and toward dawn he dressed and went outside. His handgun pressed cold against his skin where he'd tucked it in his waistband. The guard let him out the gate without a word, and he stumbled through the early dawn toward Tondc, sick with losing her, Clarke's words echoing through his head. _Ask her to stay!_

The warriors in Tondc surrounded him when he entered hours later, well after sunup. He barely registered their words, their anger at him and his people, at the mountain and war and grievances he knew nothing about. Their blows he felt, the punches to his face and his gut that came before Abby came tearing out, shouting at them to stop.

He struggled for breath after the punch to the gut, and his mind was addled from the lack of sleep. Indra appeared, starting toward him with weapons drawn, barking orders. The warriors surrounded him again, and then-

Marcus looked up to see a wild-haired Abby pointing his handgun at Indra's head. He hadn't even felt her take it from his waistband.

"Don't. Touch. Him," Abby said, the words pointed and low, face hard and hand steady.

Indra stared at her, lip curling in anger, but someone started coughing behind her, and she turned away, barking at her warriors to stand down. Marcus and Abby were left alone.

"Are you insane?" she snapped. "As leader of the sky people, you can't just come walking into the village like that. They'll take it as a threat."

A laugh escaped him. She was right. It was an incredibly stupid move. "Blame your daughter."

"What?"

"I love you."

Her brow furrowed. "And I love you. You know that."

"But we've never said it." He reached out to cup her cheek. Her skin was cold in the winter air. "I've never said it. I just... let you leave."

And all at once, he saw the understanding on her face, the softening and crumbling of her body as she reached up and placed her hand over his.

"We can't stay in Tondc for winter," she said quietly. "They've lost all the stores of food, and half the village is without adequate shelter. They're sick, and they're starving, and they'll die here if we stay. Indra came for me because she wants to take our people to Polis for the winter."

"Abby," he said, searching her face for anything that would give him hope. "Abby, stay with me."

 

*

 

She kissed him goodbye that winter day in her village and went to Polis with her people, leaving him with promises that he prayed were sincere. Her saw her hands on every piece of firewood that his people used to cook food, and to stay warm on the occasions when the heating systems failed just as she'd said. He saw her smile in every snowflake that fell from the sky, and he traced her name in a heart in the snow when it piled high on the ground.

He dreamed of her all winter. There were some nights, shivering under his blankets, listening to his heartbeat in the dark, that he was sure hers was beating in time with his, even far away. _Seimtombom_ , he heard her say, again and again.

When the cold began to abate and the barest hint of spring began to push through, he found his gaze wandering to the forest, waiting for her to keep her promise to return in the spring. But the snow melted and the grass began to grow, and his scouts told him that the ruins of Tondc lay empty still.

It was the warmest day they'd had so far, and though the air was still cold, he'd shucked his jacket to work on the gardens they'd begun to plant just outside the gate. The sun warmed his skin, and for once she'd left his thoughts, his mind on the soil he'd overturned and the seeds it would soon hold.

"Chancellor!"

It was Bellamy who had spoken, standing back by the gate with a grinning Clarke. Marcus followed Clarke's gaze to the forest, his heart giving a lurch when he saw Abby there, stepping out of the trees, eyes finding his. Her hair was longer and her clothes were different, but there was a pack on her back and certainty in her step. Without a care to how his people would view him, he dropped his shovel and ran to her, catching her grinning in his arms. Throwing off her pack, she threw her arms around his neck, and he closed his eyes, breathing in her scent of herbs and forest and feeling her heart against his chest, beating in time with his.

"You're late," he said finally, pulling back to study her face. There was worry there under the happiness, and a new scar on her forehead. He reached out and traced the ragged line, and she grabbed his hand away and kissed his palm.

"War came early," she replied. "The Ice Nation broke the alliance before the last snowfall. Indra helped secure the capital before leading us back to Tondc."

Worries about the future could wait. He linked his fingers with hers and leaned down to steal her lips, vaguely aware of hooting and cheering somewhere in the background. He kissed her in every way: gentle, and sweet, and passionately, silently promising never to let her go again if he could help it. She was breathless and smiling when they finally broke apart, her fingers still tangled in his hair and her body leaning into his.

"I missed you," she whispered, "but I'm home now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finito! Thanks for reading!


End file.
